


THE SIMULATION

by XIIVA (XeroXiiva)



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Animal Murder, Apocalyptic Themes, Brace Your Fragile Heart, Drama, Dreams in Dreams, Evil Rainbows, Fluff w/ a Side of Agony, Inception Melds, Like What Happened??, M/M, Religious Conflict, Romance, Sooo Much Animal Murder, Suicide, alternating povs, major angst, post-STID, so much plot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-26
Updated: 2018-04-04
Packaged: 2018-05-16 08:14:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 87
Words: 372,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5820931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XeroXiiva/pseuds/XIIVA
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><b>THE SIMULATION</b> is not a program we should allow to continue.</p><p>Lest we forget - It was banned for a reason. Thousands were sent for psychological evaluations and checkups after THE SIMULATION, which is already a psychological evaluation by definition.<br/>PTSD can't be healed by some measly hyposhot. It alters the mind. It tampers with relationships of any kind – friendships, crew dynamics split with irreversible damage.<br/>Trust is the very foundation of these ships, and they are all being stripped raw.<br/>This must end.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. POST SIM - PART ONE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!  
> I'm back with a new story!  
> UNKNOWN is almost complete and inspiration struck.  
> I hope you enjoy.  
> WARNING: Mild mentions of suicide.  
> Song: Please Don't Go - Joel Adams  
> Much love,  
> ~X
> 
> Edited and cleaned up as of 02/20/17 with **'vsrenard'**  
>  <3

 

> After suffering the disastrous consequences of Admiral Marcus, the Enterprise has remained docked for seven months. Starfleet revived the abandoned old method of evaluating a future officer’s, and in this case, the current officer’s true character. The results should increase the chances of a fruitful journey.
> 
> In the first year of its renewal, every enlisted officer has to undergo the program. There is one alteration - if Captains and First Officers wish to remain on their ships as is, they have to partake in the program together. With the promise of a new mission, Captain Kirk and Commander Spock have to overcome this challenge. This has every chance of opening the powerful duo’s relationship raw. Every layer will be dissected and analyzed.
> 
> Everyone is watching.
> 
> **Begin 'THE SIMULATION.'**
> 
>  

** POST SIM - PART ONE **

  

Interview #2 – Captain James Kirk,

A tiny robot flew around the rectangular table. The right side of the annoying compartment blinked a bright red, recording every minuscule movement. Jim wanted to climb on the table, grab the buzzing thing and throw it against the metal wall. He wanted to see it in pieces. Once again, he was the center of attention – being judged under the guise of simple evaluation. He experienced being the focus before the SIM, and he experienced it in the SIM. This time, he might actually do something he would regret.

After waking up from the most bizarre drug-induced sleep of his life, the last thing he wanted to be was another star on the screen.

A test rat.

Jim cracked his neck and rubbed his tired eyes. Blinking was an abnormal sensation, his eyes used to be closed for twenty-eight days-- the absolute maximum SIM period. He knew he looked like shit. He felt like it, too. He tapped on the table, more than anxious of an interview that he knew would be beyond bearable. He kept his head down, away from the intimidating lights.

The desire to wallow in darkness was a tempting one.

The room was too bright. The sensation was expected, registering everything as foreign POST – SIM.

It all felt synthetic. Maybe if he tapped the table hard enough, it would crumble to pixels. Maybe if he picked those pixels up, he might even gain points.

He blinked a few times and rolled his shoulders, trying to get used to his body again. He was surprised that he hasn’t fallen on his way to this unknown room. He literally just woke up.

The clothes he wore were the ones he got induced in.

Jim couldn’t get the sympathy of McCoy’s eyes taken away from his memories. They were the eyes of a man who knew that even though the test was complete; the problems were about to begin.

_“Welcome back to the world of the flesh and bones, kid.”_

Jim remembered the other lab coats in the room, and how they greeted him, all while avoiding eye contact. He remembered the stab of intense worry when the bed next to him was empty. Spock was nowhere to be seen.

The scene of the lab interchanged with the empty suburbs in the middle of a collapsing world. His mind couldn’t process the change in reality. A false reality that was a show for everyone to see… When realization of the situation dawned on Jim, his breath hitched. It was then that McCoy whispered in his ear.

_“You’ve done nothing wrong. Remember that.”_

Now he was alone in this bright room, awaiting sentence.

As the door opened behind Jim; he didn’t bother standing up as the two officers walked in front of his table. There was no point in keeping his professional demeanor. He had most probably lost his ship. He most probably lost Spock. The way he went down wasn’t worthy of a Captain.

Jim looked up from the table and noticed that the two in the room weren’t just officers -- they were Admirals. Admiral Nensi and Admiral Lui to be exact.

“Captain Kirk.” Admiral Lui addressed him with full confidence. The Admiral who was always known for having a permanent frown miraculously formed the expression of the human smile.

Jim had no idea if it was actually genuine.

"How are you feeling?"

"Like I died." Jim answered with no hint of humor.

Admiral Nensi straightened out his formal grey top and adjusted his emblem before sitting down. "That's understandable." His pepper and salt hair was perfectly sleeked back, unlike Lui’s open hair that greeted the wind with no problem, each strand appearing to have escaped a static pillow.

“Before we begin, we thank you for your participation, Captain Kirk,” Admiral Nensi spoke.

“Considering the alternative, there was really no choice.” Jim uttered his first coherent sentence since he woke. “You required data, and we fulfilled our duty as Starfleet officers. Let’s not begin this conversation on the illusion that my First Officer and I willingly and happily participated. Please.” By seeing their slightly stunned expressions, he felt proud of himself. He would gather every inch of dignity he could.

THE SIMULATION was originally used to create the perfect crew: a compatible group of people that would do their ship justice. A person’s character could never be fully determined by testing alone, hence the success of the Kobayashi Maru…

… but it wasn’t enough. The Maru collected data regarding battle techniques -- nothing further.

Many claimed THE SIMULATION to be unethical and unbeneficial in a majority of cases, especially since the results were usually an inevitable source for the defamation of character. The announcement to revive THE SIMULATION was a decision as a result of the actions of Admiral Alexander Marcus. THE SIMULATION program halted a year prior to his Starfleet acceptance. Honestly, Jim could understand the Admiralty’s logic.

If THE SIMULATION had remained, then Marcus’ true personality would have been exposed before being ensign. One could not deceive a test when they didn’t know they were being tested after all. Jim discovered this with some of his ship’s FAILs.

The program was a pinnacle point for each intended officer, always conducted before his or her first mission. Now it was applied to every person outside of the Academy, no matter how old or what position. As another a condition of its revival, Starfleet had also decided to test the current Captains and First Officers of each ship _together_ , at least if they desired to serve on the same ship again. If the obligation of a combined test for a command team was rejected or denied, then regardless of the grade POST-SIM, a transfer would be in order.

Regardless of these conditions, if one were to receive a FAIL without compatibility pending, without a just reason, then that would be it. A FAIL was a FAIL not matter what.

Jim didn’t take a minute to choose. Spock, on the other hand, understood that they should take it together, but that was not without expressing the possibility of failure.

Jim should have listened.

They saved Earth -- twice-- and Starfleet repaid them by turning them into guinea pigs.

Jim never asked for much. All he wanted was to be left alone while performing his duties to his utmost ability. Unaware of his circumstances as he sat near this cold table, in this cold room, he could only wonder. Would he actually be allowed back on his ship? Would Spock be able to join him?

He was caught between being ashamed, and being ashamed for being ashamed. No matter what would ensue in this room, the buzzing all around him, he knew that it would require his mindset to switch back to that of a Captain. In that other world, he looked to Spock – and yet, this would not be possible. He had to protect Spock and himself, ignoring his feelings.

He wished he could take back everything.

This would hurt less if he outright refused a dual SIM, taking it by himself. Granted, Spock most likely would have had to transfer. Despite the repelling idea, if they knew what they knew know – then maybe – because they wouldn’t be here now.

Jim wanted to return to the time to where he was finally checked out from the bleach infested hospital –a time where he was healing in peace and beautiful isolation. A time where Spock visited almost every day, interchanging with Bones and spending time talking about the future, a future he now knew could never happen.

A five-year mission, they chanted. The infinite possibilities, Spock spoke out in awe. God help me, McCoy grumbled perpetually. Nonetheless, they were excited.

“Duly noted. Now, we have a few follow-up questions.” Admiral Lui opened up a portfolio while Nensi put his PADD in a case and placed it upright on the table.

Jim breathed in. “Before that, I am owed answers to my questions.”

The two Admirals quickly exchanged a look, then nodded.

“What’s going to happen to Spock?” Jim’s hands trembled at the thought of Spock awaking alone, confused, his mind probably re-calibrating to its natural state.

Until next time, they said.

But next time was being separated in headquarters, questioning their own minds – without contact and comfort.

Admiral Lui tsked. “That hasn’t been decided yet.”

There was no possibility that Jim could sleep with such a lack of information.

“What’s going to happen to me – my crew – the mission?”

“It’s too soon to decide. I apologize – that’s all we can –"

Jim lazily waved his index finger. “No. That’s not good enough.” It was unacceptable. Jim wasn’t going to be hung like a puppet, awaiting execution. “You said that if we decided to take the test individually, we would never be on the same ship again. If we entered the SIM together and failed, we would be terminated from our positions immediately.”

They both leaned back and sighed. Admiral Nensi intertwined his fingers on his lap. “Is that what you think took place, Captain Kirk? You think you deserve a FAIL?”

Jim’s eye twitched. They were twisting his words. “We don’t deserve any of this.”

“Despite your current belief – when strictly looking at our requirements, we can conclude that you have not failed.”

_You have not failed._

Jim flung his head back in relief. It was too good to be true. He didn’t care for his reputation, but to suddenly believe that Starfleet would let everything resume back to normal was like begging for a peace treaty with Klingons.

He didn’t like their contorted faces. He didn’t like their tone. Knowing them, this wasn’t finished.

“In fact the results achieved were the ones we desired … except for a few hiccups of course.”

Jim snorted. If what they considered a few hiccups an exchange of loving gestures, willingly dying in each other’s arms and hot fucking while whispering dirty things worthy of a shameless whore – then a few hiccups it was…sure. If only Jim wasn’t facing an emotional crisis because of these hiccups…

And man was this an emotional crisis.

“We admit to have not considered these possible circumstances of inserting two minds into the program. Some believe that a transfer is in order.” Admiral Lui clicked her pen. “Some believe that we are at fault for putting you two in such a position. You were both unaware – “

Admiral Nensi cleared his throat. “However, now that we know the full extent of your relationship – “ Admiral Lui breathed in and Nensi loosened his collar. “The results of THE SIMULATION bring up the possibility that fraternization occurred prior to testing.”

The hairs on Jim’s arms sprung up. Bile crept up his throat. “There was nothing of the kind before we went under. The logical alternative would have been to deny the offer, take the test individually, and avoid the risk entirely.”

“I’m sorry, Captain Kirk. Please keep in mind that we have seen the program. You cannot fool us. We now know _you_. Regardless of risk, you would have done the same.” Admiral Nensi narrowed his eyes, attempting to come off intimidating.

Admiral Nensi was right. Shit, he was more than right. Did Jim become an open book? Nothing was private anymore. Spock could no longer hide under his stoic expression, these people thinking they knew it all.

Except, they were mere spectators – seeing the surface.

Admiral Lui clicked her pen again. “Now, can you guarantee that the actions that have taken place inside THE SIMULATION won’t occur again?”

Jim opened his mouth only to shut it again. Every memory of THE SIMULATION was etched on his cranium. No matter how messed up the world was, or how it fueled insanity on a daily basis – Jim knew one thing. Jim had laid his head on Spock’s lap, awaiting death together. He could still feel his fingers holding Spock’s as they went cold.

They were dying, and they were content.

But that had been another world. Jim was back, and he knew that retrieving that feeling of what he could conclude as love was impossible.

“I – “ He had no answer. He only wanted one thing, and that thing was the only thing that made sense to him. “I want to see Spock.”

It sounded pathetic to his own ears.

Admiral Lui slid a packet of neatly sorted papers across the table. “That can be arranged as soon as you make a decision. Sign this, and we will accept the grade of ‘PASS’. A grade that has been well earned.”

Each condition set out for him was a hammer, breaking him down. It was degrading. Him and Spock were supposed to be in eternal bliss after their sacrifice. He wasn’t supposed to be back here in this world--nothing here was real.

“And if I choose to not sign it?” His voice carried no strong vocals--just a dry whisper.

“Then you and Commander Spock receive a compatibility transfer.” Admiral Nensi stood.

“A FAIL?!” Jim felt the heat rise up his throat. “We’re compatible!”

His outcry was met with simple blinks. “Do you wish to serve on another ship, Captain Kirk?”

Jim opened his mouth, but silence was the only thing he was capable of.

Admiral Lui walked towards the door alongside Admiral Nensi. Before she exited the room, she put her palm on Jim’s shoulder. “I’m sure you know what this means. Best wishes.”

Blue eyes glared daggers at the glossy white papers. It was something so small, and yet it carried Jim’s future. It was a contract that prohibited fraternizing of any form. Since this was specifically drawn out for their circumstance, the consequences were more severe than a simple transfer if there was a breach in contract. It would be branded in their records and meant the possible probation of seven years without the chance of serving.

It was a compromise.

It was a gamble.

If he chose to not sign it, then either he or Spock would not be present in the next mission of the Enterprise. He didn’t want to leave, and he knew Spock wouldn’t either.

Jim would be damned if he took a FAIL after what he and Spock went through.

He made his decision.

**.**

**.**

**.**

 

Florescent lights penetrated Spock’s eyelids. Was this the light humans spoke of when approaching death? He knew his mother had been in awe of the phenomena.

A beeping noise rung in his ears.

He had kept his eyes closed, waiting for his katra to leave, a transfer to another spectrum. Throughout it all, he felt Jim with him. It was all Spock needed for comfort and certainty. Not once was he regretful in his decision to do something his people ceased to practice unless in the most severe of cases. To Spock, his ending applied to those severe cases.

A warm presence caressed the side of his face. The beeping persisted, irking his mind. The touch was foreign and still felt inviting. Somehow, it was a touch his body accepted without permission. It caused a growing sense of panic. Who could that have been? Everyone was dying and this touch did not belong to Jim.

This alien presence was impossible … unless they were taken - or was this the essence of the Universe?

“Spock.”

His name, and yet he did not know the messenger.

“He’s not waking up – “

“Just give it time.”

“I need to call this in.”

“Give it time, dammit!”

A surge of energy vibrated through his core. It enveloped his mind and cleaned it anew. Spock opened his eyes to be greeted with a room of medical personnel. He did not know where he was.

“Shit, Spock.”

A body wrapped around his, and Spock froze. The gesture of ‘hugging’ was something he grew used to, however that was possible because as far as he knew, he was unable to feel a connection through the touch of another, limited in mind and in his abilities as a Vulcan.

This was the first mind he touched through this tight, desperate hug, and he actually recognized it.

This was McCoy.

The man chuckled in what mostly seemed like an expression of low relief.

Spock then registered what the relief was attached to. It was because with the familiar machines, the white uniforms of a medical team surrounding him and the familiar aroma of chlorine based bleach, he was in Starfleet headquarters.

Death was not on the other side.

It was home.

“Doctor?” He blinked a few times. He moved the limbs attached to his body. Nothing felt like it belonged. He tested his arms and hesitantly put them around McCoy’s torso, the gesture being a familiar one for his SIM self, not for this one – a foreign gesture nonetheless.

“It’s freakin, ‘Leonard’ you stupid, stupid man. Don’t scare me like that.” McCoy held tighter. “Ever.”

“I apologize. THE SIMULATION brought upon more stress than expected. I need time to recuperate.” Spock sat up with McCoy's aid. He turned to the side to see his Captain still under. Those eyes had yet to open. 

Spock concluded that he died before Jim.

This was not how everything should have ended. Granted, he was pleased that he was alive and the world he had resided in was false, except he now knew too much about himself -- about Jim. Every doubt that resonated within him for months now manifested itself into something undeniable. He knew what he wanted. No more questions. No more doubting reciprocation.

Nevertheless, when he walked to Jim’s bedside in his wrinkled gown, he frowned. He reached out to Jim’s wrist, feeling the cold skin around his palm. Something was horribly wrong within him. The surge of energy did not renew his mind. His mind was desolate.

It lacked Jim's spirit. It lacked the anchor that kept him going.

Once again, McCoy touched him. They stood side-by-side, shoulders brushing. It was an action he no longer minded, previously endeavoring to inch away from the closeness.

“You did nothing wrong.” McCoy whispered.

Spock knew he did nothing of the sort. How could something so perfect to his very being be wrong in the Universe? Why would he deny himself such a feeling? Would Jim feel like this was a mistake? They both did not have the opportunity to carefully consider their lives -- their _real_ lives.

His frown deepened. Like a child, he pushed everything aside and solely concentrated on what he wanted. He craved for that feeling to return.

Spock was unmercifully robbed of the most divine connection he’d ever experienced. He was without the one thing he was once content with going without indefinitely. He was no fool. No one could veer desire for him in this way – toleration at best.

It was an unexpected gift he did not need, now believing it to be the one thing to fuel him to live on. He had to get it back. He had to get Jim back.

“Commander Spock, we request your presence down the hall, where we will escort you for your POST-SIM Interview.”

Two men in formal silver stood outside the lab.

“Jim will return?” Spock asked McCoy.

“Most definitely.” McCoy responded. “You two handled it like champions.”

“We did not.” Spock walked to the side of his bed and held his clothes to his chest. “We failed.”

He did not regret his decision, but he knew how it would weigh in the deliberations. Their obvious compatibility and success had never guaranteed a PASS. There was an itch in his mind that made Spock certain that they would receive a FAIL. The fault was his for not preventing this.

“C’mon Spock – “ McCoy urged for Spock to listen to his reason.

“We delved into a problem that I believe even Jim and I cannot fix.” Spock interrupted. “I do not foresee an exit strategy for this one.”

With that, he left the room, leaving a flabbergasted McCoy.

There was little thought required on his decision when the contract was presented before him.


	2. PRE SIM - PART ONE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter will mostly consist of background information of THE SIMULATION, and how Spock and Jim ended up where they did last chapter. The actual SIM will be posted soon. 
> 
> Song: Elysium by Mendum  
> Warning: Descriptions of graphic violence. If you like dogs - I suggest you close your eyes. 
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> ~X
> 
> Edited and cleaned up as of 03/19/17 with 'vsrenard'  
> <3

**PRE SIM - PART ONE**

 

Jim used the sole of his foot to move his leather chair around into circles. His new apartment had everything he could hope for. The sun was bright as ever, lights trickling past the blinds of the two windows on the living room wall. The main colors of his new home consisted of neutral blues to black.

He enjoyed his space and his solitude, especially since his cod-like house was a little over an hour away from headquarters. Some may have found it an inconvenience to travel such a far distance, but Jim didn't mind.

After physical/psychological therapy, all of which lasted seven months, McCoy had suggested that an isolated place to heal would be appropriate. For reasons unknown to him, Jim felt nauseous at the idea of going back home when he was bedridden. He couldn't return back to the bed he crawled into when mourning Pike's death. But knowing himself, he also knew that he didn't have the energy to look for a new place. On another hand, he didn't want to intrude when McCoy suggested he stay with him.

Surprisingly, Spock suggested the same.

_"I will care for your needs while you reside in my home." Spock said to him. "I do not suggest this out of false formality or obligation. Please consider my offer as a genuine option. A favor of a friend."_

Jim noticed the steps Spock took to make it known that they were more than just colleagues. The spontaneous moments when Jim would get a text stating that Spock was outside his hospital room, or when Spock would bring food with a name Jim couldn't properly repeat, or when there would no longer be an official reason for each other's company. !

Spock was probably still frightened that Jim would slip away. In the first three months, Jim had extensive therapy and consistent check-ups. This foreign blood inside him was no guarantee.

All side effects were still unknown.

In case anything happened to Jim, he decided against Spock's offer. It was the same reason he rejected Bones' offer. He already took enough of their time. He could continue doing the majority of the healing on his own. He wasn't falling around or expelling the contents in his stomach at random times anymore. He was okay enough to be alone, and that was more than enough reason.

After careful consideration, Jim resorted to hiring a real estate agent. He sent her his budget and expectations, and she delivered.

There wasn't much furniture. But the ones he did have carried a quality to it that was enough for Jim to just rub his face in the couches, nuzzling into it like a cat did to an owner's leg. He was never one to cook, except the design of the kitchen practically forced him to download some cooking books.

This was his second life-his second opportunity.

This place had everything he wanted.

That included his two best men, sitting in his living room as he circled in his chair with a taste of vanilla ice cream in his mouth.

"We lost a nurse this week." Bones sighed. He rubbed his forehead and leaned back on the couch.

McCoy was in the main team that looked over most of the new SIMs, including the ones from their ship, alongside the Admirals and other important officials, or Captain appointed spectators. Of course Jim had access to all the SIMs from his ship, but he felt his presence to be an intrusion. How could his crew serve under him if he knew all their secrets, their tics, likes and dislikes?

It would ruin the dynamic. Jim wasn't the first Captain to refuse to watch the SIMs either, for that very reason. Captain Dumont of the USS Antigone was very expressive about that.

Captain Collin Gerald of the USS Xīwàng was the same. There were brewing rumors that the others would pass the duties off to other trusted officers once they docked for their own SIMs.

Even though McCoy's job was extremely time-consuming, he still offered to provide summaries of the Medical Staff. Of course, Spock took care of the Science officers, but with his extensive knowledge and skill, especially with his own simulation of the Kobayashi Maru, he also took care of Tactical.

Sulu and Scott oversaw the Operations and Helm officers, while Lemli took care of Security.

Uhura succeeded in her SIM, and denied the proposal to evaluate and report SIMs herself. Chekov was adamant in his lack of participation. The ensign absolutely refused to be a witness to anyone's SIM. !

Jim only had one condition regarding these summaries. He would only go into detail if a person received a FAIL. The PASS was enough for him to not care for those details, but he sure as hell wanted to know why he was losing valuable officers. He would only read the reports of each eliminated and transferred crewmember, along with the summary briefings, like the one he was in now.

This way, irrelevant details wouldn't come to his knowledge. The process was the same for the new officers to join the mission from a transfer. Grades of PASS meant that it wasn't necessary for Jim to watch the SIM. Hours and hours of footage.

Some it was days. He even heard of someone who had been in it for a year. Although the maximum was twenty-eight days in stasis – the idea of losing a year was freakin' ridiculous.

…

Today was McCoy's and Spock's day to report. McCoy never stayed long since he had to go return to shift most of the time. Jim contemplated the idea of Spock arriving himself from now on, going over McCoy's summaries on a call or something. He didn't want his friend to work too hard.

The drive must have been bothersome.

Spock had a lecture this morning by Jim's knowledge, so he wasn't surprised when Spock walked through the door in professor blacks. McCoy was in loose denim pants and wearing a black T-shirt, his brown leather jacket hanging on one of the dining table chairs.

At least McCoy went home before arriving to Jim's apartment, or he would have been dipped in his usual white uniform.

As these meetings became ritual, McCoy scanned Jim with his medical tricorder real quick, not caring for Jim's annoyed groan.

"Check my stash. I'm taking my medicine." Jim informed him.

"Or you could be flushin' them down the drain, feeding them to the larvae." McCoy said, unimpressed.

Spock cast them both an annoyed look, "Like such irresponsible actions would be beneficial to either of you."

"See?" Jim cheesed, satisfied by the eye-roll he elicited out of McCoy.

The two immediately got settled and comfortable. Jim continued to eat his ice cream as the others opened their material

…

"Which nurse?" Jim asked them.

Bones frowned. "Nurse Venning, sadly."

Jim instantly halted the turns of his chair.

He caught Spock gaze glued to the floor. This wasn't good.

"You have to be kidding. She clipped ensign Harley's femoral artery in the middle of an away mission." It was definitely a scary sight. The ensign would have bled out if not for her. She dug into his thigh with no hesitation, and in Jim's opinion, Starfleet needed more people like her. "How could she be more compatible with another crew? We _need_ her brilliance."

"Her brilliance wasn't put into question, Jim. Other things became more prominent and it took priority over her skills," McCoy said. "She wasn't transferred. She was dishonorably discharged."

A FAIL?!

Jim would have to start from the beginning to understand this.

"Explain her SIM, please," he asked.

"She – " McCoy paused. "She lived on a farm. Venning didn't have medical experience, so no license as well. She would wake up, clean after her horses, mow the lawn and bake for her neighbors."

Jim looked at Spock, urging for more of an explanation.

Spock's lower lip twitched. "In Venning's simulation, her neighborhood recently faced a string of unfortunate losses of their canine and feline companions. The environment was quiet, simple and clean. A suspect had yet to be singled out."

Bones leaned forward and placed his elbows on his knees, resting his head on his palms. "She took them, Jim."

The SIM sounded so plain - So mundane and obtaining zero possibilities for a fuck up of this calamity.

"And she did … what exactly?" He automatically feared the worst. Jim has had the pleasure of working with Nurse Venning. He hoped it was just his mind overreacting.

"Jim …" Bones stalled.

Jim wouldn't tolerate any tension building. He needed facts. "What did she do – "

"She dismembered them." Spock interjected with a calm voice. "She ultimately murdered five canines and two felines in the duration of two weeks. She practiced her facial expressions in the mirror every day to conform and adapt into what a human's definition of normal would be. Her companions were oblivious to her feigned happiness."

"The first time she smiled, like really freakin' smiled, was when she butchered a her first dog." The doctor grimaced. "Limb by limb."

Jim swallowed his ice cream too fast, and it invited the cold wave of a brain freeze.

Holy shit.

These two must have seen everything.

"She was a sadist." Bones clarified for Jim. His own hands trembled as he aired out the word, avoiding Jim's peering stare, "She worked under us. We let her near our crew, and she was a sick, sadistic psychopath. I think Admiral Lui puked."

Jim would have puked.

"Admiral Archer stopped the viewing of her SIM three times before ceasing the program entirely." Spock said. "Captain, a lack or complete absence of emotion is one aspect, however Venning had no sense of right and wrong."

"She had no access to patients in the SIM, but the real world's another question. We don't need a vivid imagination to see what the hell Starfleet's speculating."

"There's no pets on the Enterprise." Jim wiped his face, and whispered a curse. "Fuck me."

Spock raised a brow. "An investigation has been launched regarding all her previous patients, and whether she willingly caused their demise."

"The lady probably liked going though Harley's insides." McCoy grumbled at the disturbing possibility, "I can't believe she passed the psych eval. Honestly, the SIMs ain't all that bad, kid. This renewal might actually be a good thing. We know more about the crew and ourselves."

When McCoy had received a grade of PASS, Jim expressed his curiosity about his friend's SIM in private. He thought it was something they could talk through or maybe even joke about. The doctor only asked that Jim never mention his SIM again.

Jim could simply have ordered the SIM to his terminal, or ask Spock of the details, since the XO had been there during grading. But Jim refrained.

"I didn't get a notice yet." Jim was actually slightly nervous of his SIM. The program was probably going to give his superiors blackmail material.

"I did not receive my date and time as well." Spock said.

Now Jim was more than curious of what Spock's SIM might entail. He wasn't dwelling on the inevitable grade of PASS, but on the contents. Unfortunately, just like the rest of Jim's crew, Jim wasn't going to attend, hear, or watch a bit of Spock's SIM.

He already trusted Spock. He didn't need a stupid SIM to reaffirm that.

"We are the only ones in the senior crew who didn't get a grade. Did any of the ships complete THE SIMULATION yet?" Jim aired out.

The question was rhetorical, but expect Spock to answer immediately.

"The USS Xīwàng was the first ship to complete THE SIMULATION, as of 0600."

Jim narrowed his eyes. "I didn't get the notice." He pointed his white-coated spoon at the Vulcan. "How do you know that?"

"My students, Captain."

"And what else did these students inform you of?" Jim wondered why no one told him anything anymore. Did Spock just get cooler than him?

"Fifteen crew members have been discharged. Twenty-three have been listed as 'pending transfer'. It seems that Captain Gerald is also pending transfer. In addition, he is the first Captain to receive a grade."

Gerald must have gotten a PASS.

Spock would have said otherwise.

"Damn." Jim stood up and put his bowl of ice cream on the glass table between the couches

McCoy got up as well and started walking to the kitchen after a long yawn. "I was there overseeing the SIM participants. He got a PASS." He said as he poured himself another cup of strong coffee.

"Then why the transfer?" The answer dawned on Jim later. "It's rare for the Captain to leave their ship."

McCoy strolled back with his hot mug in hand. "You know the system. I can't say a word." Confidentiality was an obvious part of the agreement if THE SIMULATION of topic was of a non USS Enterprise crew member.

Spock remained still as ever, not taking advantage of the empty space on the couch to stretch his limbs "His First Officer, Commander Fey, received a PASS, so I can draw no conclusion as to why they are being reassigned."

"Compatibility transfer, maybe?" Jim asked.

"Possibly."

"Odd."

Spock nodded. "Indeed."

An unsettling feeling sparked between them. Even with a PASS from both ends, it brought up the possibility that the USS Enterprise could go through the same fate as the USS Xīwàng.

The test was an inconvenient one, but to entertain the aftermath of separation was too much.

"We'll be fine, Spock." Jim looked at Spock and did his best to reassure him.

"I am doubtful of that outcome." Spock raised his chin to meet Jim's eyes. "Jim, the idea of demotion is preferable to a transfer. "

_Jim, my friend – I do not wish to leave you._

Jim slowly smiled, his body warming up from the sincere words.

"Me too, Spock. Me too."

**.**

**.**

**.**

Later that night, Jim received a notification with a date and time. He was to take the SIM in two days. As Jim buried his tired body in the warm, heavy furry sheets, he forwarded the notice to Spock. Just when he was about to drift to sleep, His communicator beeped.

Spock forwarded his own notice.

The appointments were identical ... to the hour.

To the hour.

Jim rubbed his eyelids, the area suddenly becoming irritated from the light. He looked at the notice once more, and then quickly sat up.

**#-##-#-##-#-##-#**

**This can't be what I think this is.**

**\- JTK**

**#-##-#-##-#-##-#**

**All simulations are executed separately.**

**Perhaps this is an error.**

**\- S**

**#-##-#-##-#-##-#**

**It better be.**

**\- JTK**

**#-##-#-##-#-##-#**

 


	3. SIM - PART ONE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again!  
> Here is the first part of THE SIMULATION.  
> Keep in mind that since this is a SIM, it is also an AU.  
> Kirk and Spock do not have memories of their lives outside of the SIM, thus living on false memories w/ fake people.  
> Their movements/decisions are being watched and evaluated. 
> 
> Song: Birds Set Free by Sia
> 
> Edited and cleaned up as of 03/19/17 with 'vsrenard'  
> <3

** SIM - PART ONE **

> _Now we return to Trisha Fernandez, who is currently in Tianjin, where these foreign lights can be seen in disturbing detail. Trisha, how are you holding up there?_
> 
> _I'm doing fine. This is such a momentous time in human history. Today will be the second day since the arrival of the mysterious phenomena. The Chinese government has done an impeccable job with keeping order, and as such, the people of Tianjin have remained calm. Mandatory curfew will take place after 6 pm._

The radio continued to play in the background.

Jim could hear it as he pushed through the door and threw his helmet on the couch. The mask underneath irritated his skin. With a quick shake of his sweaty, damp hair, he took off his jacket and sighed with immense release. The static audio ticked his nerves, but serving as a much needed reminder.

He looked at the mannequin he obtained weeks before. It was customized with a short chestnut wig. The ivory skin lacked in its shine, needing a cleaning from the dirt that coated it. For added fun, Jim called it Bud drew red swirls on its cheeks. Jim tilted his head, and nodded at Bud with acknowledgment.

"I barely made it today, Bud." He frowned. "I shouldn't travel too far next time." He looked at the mannequin for a long duration and then patted its plastic face. "You tried to warn me. I'm a stubborn one though."

Jim gave Bud a goofy grin. He stepped back, picked up the drinks he just retrieved and trod to the kitchen. He had never been a fan of the energy drinks back when his life was normal, but the vibrant purple stood out to him.

The emptiness of light behind the wooden covered windows gave him peace of mind. The nightly noises of crackles and sparks were dimmer than usual, which indicated that they were blocks away.

He was safe.

For the day.

The radio continued to play as Jim settled onto the kitchen floor.

**.**

**.**

**.**

> _The way Admiral Racked described it in the latest press conference, the luminosity of the A-802 Supernova explosion has just now reached Earth's atmosphere. Do you back up his statements, Dr. Feng?_
> 
> _\- No, I do not. These statements have no facts behind them. The A-802 Supernova should not be able to reach us for another one hundred and seventy-five years. With our current technology, we can predict these events centuries in advance. However, in this case, everything has been spontaneous, and frankly, I am appalled that Starfleet would assume we would digest this false information._
> 
> _So you believe this to be a conspiracy? A way for us to keep calm …_
> 
> _\- These lights are traveling to different countries while disappearing in others nearby. It's moving against physics. I'm ashamed to say that in this case, Starfleet has conjured a conspiracy to keep us calm. They do not know what is taking place, or they're covering for their ill doings._

Jim gazed sideways to roll his eyes at Bud, and laughed until his throat went sore.

**.**

**.**

**.**

The safety of the sun's lights filled the kitchen. They were the only lights that Jim could trust; the only lights that he knew wouldn't disintegrate his body, making him but another spec on the sand coated lands around him.

Jim scratched the back of his neck and yawned. Sleeping on the tiled floor was not a good idea, especially when he had to make sure his body was in tip-top shape. One would assume that it was for vanity, but he knew that if he wished to survive these conditions, he didn't have the luxury of sitting about.

He'd been here before. He wasn't some kid searching for food. Food wasn't a continuous obstacle this time.

Still … his health was a concern, but for another reason. Keeping on top of that was a high priority. His body was this entity that he had to battle for control at times, so he tried to make it as happy as possible so it wouldn't turn on him, trapping him.

But dammit, his stomach gurgled.

Despite Jim's goals, he wasn't the best. He had bad days.

Bud shook its head at the tired, lonely man. Jim tsked at it and tossed an empty can at it.

"You're not even real.." He mumbled.

Jim approached the toilet and dragged his pants to mid thigh – He could hear Bud yelling at him.

"Your urine wouldn't be so yellow if you just drank that water stashed under the table, fool!" Bud would say, probably smacking Jim's head afterwards. "Energy drinks ain't gonna get you far, boy!"

But they were soooo good!

When Jim ran out last night, he'd had to retrieve more at the supermarket down the neighborhood. He knew it was late, but he made it – didn't he?

It was worth it though, even when the slither of wavy light that floated above the store, sunk down towards him as he left. From the looks of it, it was an illuminating ruby one, as if dipped in the blood of its previous victims, wearing it like medals.

The other hues were more dormant in its lethalness, too bothered to seep through walls anymore after the initial attacks.

Jim thought he was safe by not moving an inch so that he could not be detected.

Except the idea was a foolish one, because something as simple as his breathing underneath the helmet caught the waves' attention, jumping right in his direction and chasing him out of the establishment.

The incident should have attracted the other iridescent weapons in the sky, targeting him for a long overdue meal. But his home was sealed.

Sealed and safe.

And thankfully, the weapon didn't have much memory. If they acted like crows, Jim would have multiple homes sealed and ready for his migration.

People thought them to be aliens, but if that were true, they would be much, much smarter.

…

Jim zipped his pants up and washed his hands in the washroom of his sealed home. The reflection showed a man who looked to have forgotten the purpose of a razor. Jim knew to have had scissors, but he never had the initiative to use those as well.

He was comforted by the slow disappearance of the puffs under his eyes, but it wasn't enough. Although Jim was winning the fight, he wondered if there was a point to any of this.

Starfleet was gone, and there was no help from the Federation planets. What was the point if no one was coming to save him? Everyone out there probably thought Earth was done, completely void of mankind.

Cold water trickled down his face after he scrubbed off last night's challenges. He scrubbed sugary and berry taste from his tongue and rinsed his mouth after a thorough cleaning. He cracked his neck, and squared his shoulders.

He walked into the kitchen and ate two Nutri bars. He gulped down four cups of water, and added more to his bottle. The real light warmed him up when he opened the door. It was time for a run and this time, he told himself to return on time.

He plugged in his earphones and clipped his music player to the hem of his shorts. Jim ran miles with no sound of music, but of the past.

.

.

.

> **_Trisha:_** _Oh my god, Frank – are you seeing this?!_
> 
> **_Frank:_** _Viewers, it seems that we have lost visual for Trisha. I repeat, it is day ten and we have lost visual. Trisha – please describe the events._
> 
> **_Trisha:_** _It came down! Those swirling things came down and they're floating in the middle of the city! Dear Christ -_
> 
> **_Kris:_** _It's happening in Moscow. Frank, they're just floating. I can't stay here anymore._
> 
> **_Frank:_ ** _Kris, please remain calm._
> 
> **_Kris:_** _Calm? This isn't anything like the Northern Lights. It's aliens! I was right – It's aliens!_
> 
> **_Frank:_** _You can't seriously believe that the lights floating down to the city are extraterrestrial species?_
> 
> **_Trisha:_** _Hello? Frank? A man is walking toward the light. What is he doing?_
> 
> **_Frank:_** _Viewers, we have recovered visual on Trisha Fernandez. There is a man walking towards the light. He is now within a few feet of the light. It's – it's glowing?_
> 
> **_Trisha:_** _The lights are glowing here in Tianjin. The man appears to be … smiling?_
> 
> **_Kris:_** _A woman walked to the light. She looks to be possessed. What's going on out there?_
> 
> **_Trisha:_** _-*Screams ignite*_
> 
> **_Frank:_** _Trisha?_
> 
> **_Kai:_** _Frank, Trisha fainted – We will get back to you when we find a place to hide. Fernandez out._
> 
> **_Frank:_** _What happened, Kai? … Kris? The woman – she – she –_
> 
> **_Kris:_** _HOLY FUCK! She became ashes. Run! RUN EVERYONE!_
> 
> **_Frank:_** _Breaking News - The lights that have taken solace in our sky has proven to be hostile. Please find safety – immediately._

**.**

**.**

**.**

Warehouse 15 contained around one hundred and fifty survivors. Despite a group of intelligent, sharpened soldiers and ex-Starfleet officers and citizens, a fifteen-year-old boy took over the surveillance room. He sucked on his licorice while looking at the latest footage.

He gave himself a pat on the back, "Good job, Karim." He snickered and continued to eat his candy.

The Security Manager was Steven, and he was super easy to manipulate. Karim told Steven that his daughter was trying to bypass Clayton and get into the base's arsenal again near the exit. It was a funny thing that such a story was believable, because Steven's daughter, Adriana, did that before.

Steven hated that she was trying to be a soldier too early, so of course he sprinted away from his post. For bonus points, there was no one to report to since the council and Chief had a couple errands to do on the outside.

Karim took over the room like it was his actual job and cackled at his awesome stupidity.

Karim then moved his overgrown black hair and rushed through hours of footage. The other kids always made fun of him for not taking an interest in fighting and keeping the ground safe. He liked technology, at least the technology that wasn't burnt out yet.

Shit. They were lucky they still had water, and a decent comm connection. Luckily, the system they used was the material already implanted by Starfleet. The kid enjoyed it. He even dubbed himself 'Big Brother' from time to time, considering how many times he snuck into surveillance.

It's been a year since the lights decimated the Earth population. The first attack took out billions. Since the lights disappeared the following day, humans felt it safe to walk back out. He knew it was stupid, but Mankind always looked for hope.

The second attack took out another couple million.

Although the lights weren't so smart now, they used to be some smart fuckers.

The third was the worst.

The lights slipped through the cracks of homes during the night and eliminated more people. Government ceased to exist. The ex-Starfleet members stated that the nearby Starbase sent out a distress signal to other ships and Federation allies.

It's not like anyone came to help them though.

Karim honestly didn't care anymore. His parents weren't with him. He had himself and his people.

The kid scoffed as he leaned back in the private room. Before he forwarded another couple of minutes, a flash of light sparked on the corner. It ignited above the FG Supermarket a couple towns over.

As if on cue, an alarm blared around Karim, lighting the red bulbs on the warehouse walls. The front doors were being opened.

The council was back, and so was his Chief. He had less than thirty seconds to get out of the room before he got into some deep shit.

But, thirty seconds wasn't enough. He still had to find out why the light moved in such a manner in the footage.

Ever since humans had found out a way to keep safe, the lights became dormant. This one didn't look dormant, flashing like an explosion and darting around, hungry and honed onto a victim.

Karim took the time he needed to escape to look closer at the lights' activity. Ten seconds in, Steven barged in behind him.

The red licorice fell to the floor. Damn.

The older man crossed his arms across his chest and huffed.

The kid hid behind his hair and slumped his shoulders. He rubbed his arm and sucked in his bottom lip, awaiting reprimand.

"You're in big trouble this time." Steven barked. "What were you thinking, Karim? If you had just asked, I would have let you stay for a little. You can't take over the whole post!"

"Would you have shown me _this_?" Karim pointed to the screen where half of it was covered in glowing crimson.

Steven squinted and placed both hands on the desk. "Fuck."

"You can't curse in front of a kid." Karim taunted.

"I sure as hell can," Steven jibed back, then pointed to the screen. "Maybe it's after a cat or something."

"You and I both know they don't care about animals." Karim reminded the grouchy man, "What if it's a person?"

"What if it's not?"

Karim cracked his fingers and typed away on the keyboard. He got into the FG Supermarket cameras. They were still active.

Within seconds, they discovered a person with the shiniest helmet on every angle, holding a bunch of purple cans. He couldn't make out the gender, but he guessed it was a man … probably.

"That's one big cat, dude." Karim said with a teasing grin.

Steven put a comm to his ear. "We have something down here. Yes – bring him too if you have to. Fine." He turned it off and slammed it onto the consul.

Within two minutes, the Chief entered the room, accompanied by two of his council. They were dressed in their outside attire, which was normally void of color.

Markus Smith was a ruthless character, and it would be no shock if Karim found out the man used to be in prison pre-invasion or something. But against all sanity – the man as ex-Marine.

Anastasia Kirova was ex- Starfleet just like Chief. She was the last survivor from Starbase One. She illegally ejected herself and a couple people, but she was the only one who made it to the ground alive.

The lights took over everything, making humans ruthless. It made the aliens ruthless, and then they all became ruthless not together, but against each other. By Karim's logic, Ana should've just stayed off planet.

"What's so important, Steven?" Markus spoke first, his cheeks showing a hint of red against his midnight skin. "We just came from another scouting, so I'm sure you know that we need to rest."

"Speak for yourself." Anastasia scoffed at her co-council member. She was pumped with adrenaline, high off it most of the time.

Karim couldn't concentrate on the screen because the Chief was looking at him with knowing eyes.

"It seems that you have endeavored to take control of the security monitors once again, Karim." The Chief stated with hands clasped behind his back, growing tired of the kid, but still having enough energy to entertain his thoughts, "I am sure you will declare these recent findings as Steven's, when we both know they are yours."

Karim cringed and put his hands into fists in his tight pockets. He wasn't oblivious to Chief's favoritism towards him, feeding his interest instead of inhibiting them. Karim slightly felt guilty for disappointing his Chief by being sneaky again.

The Chief pulled most of his air back today, so when he raised a brow, Karim could see the small wrinkles on the Chief's forehead.

"Explain yourself." The Chief sighed as he placed a thick black strand behind his ear.

"I think there's a survivor." Karim uttered a little too fast.

"Show me." Chief demanded with a low voice, unbuttoning the one button on his torso and letting loose his faux leather trench coat as he leaned forward.

Karim was so close, he could take a peak behind the Chief's thick black curtains and see those pointed ears peak out.

But alas, he ignored the temptation and clicked the button. Instantly, the whole room fell witness to a dormant light slow its circles, pause, then fly down to ground level, leaving sparks in its path. From what they could see by the windows of the market, it sunk inside, the glass flashing bright, showing the senseless directions it took inside.

It was hunting.

"Nonsense!" Markus stepped forward to the screen, his teeth gritted, "How does this prove anything? It could be chasing a bug."

"Or a cat." Steven smirked.

Anastasia and Chief narrowed their eyes at the screen, watching intently. Karim clicked to change the screen to the unknown man running for his life, and escaping from the building.

"Holy crap." Anastasia whispered.

"That's not water..." Markus raised a brow, pointing to the possession in the target's arms, "He's – He risked his life for energy drinks? Who is this idiot?"

Anastasia sighed, perplexed but still annoyed, "Whoever this idiot is, he's dead. No one escapes the light past curfew and makes it out alive."

"It is a possibility."

All heads snapped to the Chief.

"You're not seriously considering this, Spock?" Markus' mouth dropped. "That area had already been scouted after the third attack. It's a ghost town."

The Chief always listened to Markus' input, but this time, he seemed to have made up his mind. Karim noticed how he never left the target's path on the screen.

"His clothes are clean and his helmet looks polished. This survivor has a base, which could lead to other survivors. " Karim added.

"I agree." Chief nodded. "Although, I do believe that this survivor has a set base with sufficient resources, I do not believe that he is accompanied by other survivors."

Karim wondered how Chief came to that conclusion.

Chief walked to the consul and went ahead a couple frames. "If he were to be with others, then he would not have traveled alone. The survivor ignored the containers of water around him and aimed for the energy drinks - beverages that he could do without."

Which meant that this survivor already had enough in his possession.

"His actions are rash and unnecessarily risky." Chief continued, "He is purely acting on his own. If there were a base, it would have no order."

"And a base without order don't survive." Markus continued for Chief.

"Precisely, Markus."

"So, we leave him." Anastasia pulled her fading red hair up and tied it into a ponytail. "End of discussion, I guess."

Karim noticed how she classified this survivor as stupid, and not worth the problem.

But not the Chief.

"Negative."

"What?" She questioned with astonishment, her eyes wide.

"We retrieve him."

She looked at him, wiping her cheeks and exchanging glances with everyone in the room to see that she was not alone in her opinion.

She got mixed reviews, "You can't do that, Spock! We can't risk ourselves for one person. He could be a total nut. That's all everyone is lately."

No one knew that more than Chief.

The last guy council brought in didn't end up so well. Karim shivered at the thought.

"The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few, man." Markus reiterated Chief's old words. "Remember that?"

"A philosophy I have long abandoned, Markus."

Karim and Steven looked at each other before turning back to their Chief.

They all speculated that their Chief was changing, but the proof in front of them shocked them nonetheless.

"When?" Steven dared to ask.

"When one-hundred and twenty Federation planets, including my own, dubbed us the risk and the few. When the many outweigh the few, the few have no option but to depend on each other. We will not abandon this survivor when we of Earth have been abandoned ourselves."

Karim stood in awe of Chief. If he wanted to be like anyone, it would be Chief Spock without a doubt. Whoever this survivor on the screen was, Karim would make sure that this guy would be eternally grateful for Chief's decision.

Chief eloquently straightened out his jet-black coat. "Am I understood?"

Karim answered with a _'Yes, Chief'_ along with everyone else.

"Good." He said, walking back towards the door. "We leave at 0630."

**.**

**.**

**.**

> ROUND ONE:
> 
>  
> 
> **_Captain Kirk:_ **
> 
>  
> 
> Self Preservation: 98/100
> 
>  
> 
> Mental State: 78/100
> 
>  
> 
> Leadership Traits: N/A
> 
>  
> 
> _**Commander Spock:** _
> 
>  
> 
> Self Preservation: 100/100
> 
>  
> 
> Mental State: 95/100
> 
>  
> 
> Leadership Traits: 100/100
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> ... COMPLETE.
> 
>  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~X


	4. PRE SIM - PART TWO

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New Chapter!
> 
> Song: Before I Leave This World by Ivan Torrent
> 
> Much Love,
> 
> ~X

**PRE SIM – PART TWO**

>  
> 
> _Greetings Captain Kirk,_
> 
> _I wish I could say I was surprised to have gotten your message. As the Captain of the first ship to finish THE SIMULATION, your plea was one of many. By now you have probably received a notification that states that you and Commander Spock will undergo the evaluation simultaneously._
> 
> _I am well aware that many have discussed the possibility of my transfer, hence your message. Let me add more detail to the matter, Captain to Captain._
> 
> _As of two hours ago, I was reassigned to my ship. Unfortunately, my First Officer, Commander Fey is no longer a part of my crew, along with twenty other officers. Of course I will greet my new crew members as if they were always one of my own. They will be comfortable and preform to their utmost ability, especially since I have not observed their own SIM – Something I heard you were doing as well, might I add._
> 
> _Be that as it may, I trust that you will once again regain the honor of your ship. Please remember that you have more of a choice than you think._
> 
> _I assure you, the previous decision for my transfer was mine, and mine alone. This might sound foolish, but I no longer thought myself worthy of USS Xīwàng, despite all the years I have served with her. Commander Fey’s transfer was a decision we both thought logical for an effective mission. Indeed we are both regretful, but the mission took precedence._
> 
> _As Captain, no matter the final results, the outcome will be your decision_ **_when_ ** _you both get a PASS._
> 
> _Wishing you the best of luck,_
> 
> _Captain Collin Gerald of USS Xīwàng_

 

**.**

**.**

**.**

 

> _Captain James Kirk,_
> 
> _This is a response to your message regarding your SIM appointment, and the possible side effects for Commander Spock. Your questions and concerns have been taken into serious consideration and our opinion remains the same._
> 
> _We have decades of testing to prove that Commander Spock’s health, as well as his telepathic abilities will not be injured, nor will it hinder the evaluation process._
> 
> _Your involvement in his SIM, and his in yours is critical to the results we strive to achieve. It will give us the full confidence that the Academy education could not. Theory is not always the answer._
> 
> _Deciding against the evaluation with your First Officer will result in your immediate transfer; no matter the grade you receive post-individual SIM._
> 
> _A result of FAIL will result in your immediate discharge._
> 
> _Considering your Academic record and obvious history, this should be of little to no concern._
> 
> _United Federation of Planets -_
> 
> _Admiral James Komack_

****.** **

****.****

****.** **

“Ouch!” Jim jibed at Bones while flexing his arm. “You cruel, cruel being.”

“For someone who doesn’t mind bleedin’ out, you sure complain a lot about blood samples.” The other lab coats in the room smirked at Jim with low laughs. He shouted one big fake laugh that was loud enough to make everyone shut up.

Spock sat in the bed across from him, and he swore he saw the man grin. That was one of many things Jim noticed different about his friend.  For instance, he currently wanted to blame his shiver on the dropping temperature of the medical branch in HQ, but he was pretty sure it was due to Spock’s stare.

“You’ll survive, Captain Kirk.” Dr. M’Benga stated while he picked a needle up Spock’s arm.

The half-Vulcan didn’t flinch.

The green blood that traveled in the vial was fascinating. He wondered if the viscosity remained identical to humans. It probably still had the same metallic taste. He’s never seen it so dark, but that was probably due to the fact that it was not exposed to the oxygen in the air. He wondered if it glowed in the dark though.

A quick breath shot through Jim’s ear and it took him out of his stupor of stupid questions. “You’re staring, kid.”

McCoy tilted his head to Spock, and Jim settled with an awkward smile at the both of them. There was nothing like an old crew bonding. Shirtless men and blood.

While Jim was healing, and he still was, from that horrible incident seven months back, Jim caught a few glimpses at Spock changing his clothes before sleeping in the guest room. Afterwards, Jim would slowly walk to his room, hoping not to fall and think about how firm Spock’s body was throughout the night.

Honestly, why was he so surprised?

It didn’t take a genius to see the basics under Spock’s various types of clothing. As Jim sat in the cold hospital room to get his psychical before their SIM tomorrow, he realized that he wasn’t shocked on Spock’s overall shape.

He was shocked by his reaction, and his reaction consisted of mainly a dry throat. He was shirtless and exposed, and he sure fucking knew his goose bumps betrayed him.

“As you have never undergone surgery, I need to be aware if you're susceptible to allergic reactions with a couple medicines we’ll be using throughout the program. Local anesthesia is one of them.” Dr. M’Benga said to Spock.

Jim looked to McCoy to see if he would get the same. The doctor shook his head. “I already know what you can and cannot take. M’Benga would too, but his patient doesn’t tend to almost die whenever he gets the chance. It’s off to the treadmill with you.”

A whine escaped his mouth. The last thing he wanted to do was run. He didn’t want to admit that even though he could go through it, it still hurt. The intense psychical therapy worked wonders, but the radiation made him weaker than he would like to admit overall.

He could list the amount of drugs and treatments he had to suffer.

Freakin’ Iosat, DTPA (AKA Diethylenetriamine pentaacetic acid), Radiogardase, Neulasta, Neupogen, Leukine … And holy hell, the blood transfusion that supposedly saved him was the worst.

His body rejected it for the first time, one month after the disaster. He had to get six stitches on his scalp from collapsing in the restroom, his head banging the edge of the sink.

Jim was honestly surprised that he’d lasted this long. It was a morbid thought he mainly kept to himself.

His body has been through too much to deny that it needed more rest ... and here he was, about to go into a SIM in a little over twenty-four hours time … with Spock.

Despite his clearance - this was just fucking insane.

He had to deal - and he needed to find out once and for all if he was ready.

Jim stared at Spock, who now had his eyes averted from Jim’s chest. “I’ll wait for Spock.” Like a dog excited to run for the bone, Spock sprung his head up. Jim found Spock's surprise adorable - In a platonic, co-worker, friend kind of way …

“Let’s see who can run the most miles in ten minutes.” Jim challenged him. He challenged a person with superior genes and it was irrelevant.

McCoy walked away with a sigh, putting the vial into a box with gloved hands.

“Are you sure you deem that wise?” Spock finally spoke. “Especially since you are aware of the outcome, considering your condition.”

_Fuck my condition!_

“The outcome is that I’ll win, Spock.” Jim squared his shoulders with a masochistic grin. He just wanted to do something fun with Spock, and finally test himself out. He could only do that with a worthy partner. He didn’t want to test out his full stamina while assailants chased after him on an away mission.

Or worse - He failed the SIM because of it.

Also, he was tired of everyone tip-toeing around him like a delicate flower. Although he knew he had everyone’s utmost respect, he needed to assert his power and confidence. Who would listen to a Captain who had his senior crew circling him in a protective cocoon?

“You just want an ego boost,” McCoy interjected. “You need to jog, not sprint.”

“Noted.” Jim nodded. “Let’s see who can run the most miles before passing out ... jogging of course."

McCoy rolled his eyes. “Jim.”

“It is an interesting suggestion, Jim.” Spock shook his arm until the little color it had was regained. “I have seen many characteristics derived from your behavior. I have seen your intellect, your bravery and most recently – your immense fortitude.”

Jim's breath hitched, and he forced himself to not seem bashful. He's seen Spock angry, and he's seen Spock as an ally he could put himself on the line with, and with these last few months - Jim has seen Spock's kind side - a true friend.

Being complimented was part of that package, and it took a while to get use to.

Spock continued, not looking away from Jim – a deliberate and taunting stare. “I understand that you have not had the ability to test your strength to a level you deem warrant. I will aid you in this process by accepting your challenge, so that you can reassure yourself in your abilities.”

Both Dr. M’Benga and McCoy switched their gaze between the two, the whispering behind them evident in the room.

Jim didn’t care, and as he smiled at Spock, he knew Spock didn’t care either.

“Since when do you condone reckless behavior, Mr. Spock?” Dr. M’Benga said with raised eyebrows.

Spock raised his brow back at him. “Condone? I am merely following an order from my Captain, whom is in the presence of multiple medical personnel. Any signs of recklessness could simply be halted.”

Dr. M’Benga flicked his eyes to McCoy, who did nothing but shrug.

Jim could get off this bed and squeeze Spock into a suffocating hug. “Bring it.”

“Anything less would be an insult.”

**.**

**.**

**.**

 

Jim sat on one of his living room couches with the fattest and softest robe he ever owned. His shoulders slumped as he sighed. He would complain that everything hurt, but everything was hurting a bit before anyways.

“Jim, you appear fatigued.” Spock was sitting across from Jim, tilting his head in question. “Your current posture indicates exhaustion and agitation."

He tried to hide it, but Jim was growing agitated throughout the day. It was a bright afternoon, and to Jim, it almost seemed like the end of the day. He barely got any sleep last night so he did research instead. All of it concluded with a fraction of increased hope. He resided in the fact that his faith in the both of them would have to eat up his little doubts.

“I ask questions – I barely get answers. It’s like everyone is forced to be vague.”

“They are.” Spock replied. “Commander Fey stated she could not speak on the matter due to strict terms post-simulation.”

Jim leaned forward in one swift move, his elbows on his lap. “She didn’t respond to one single message, and you’re telling me she messaged you?” He pointed at his guest. “That’s not fair. Stop getting information without me." He added with a chuckle meant to show that it was a simple jest.

Spock merely tilted his head, showing that he wasn't amused, “We spoke after McCoy and I departed last night. Commander Fey was introducing a cadet by the name of Martin Gresh. She explained that he shows much promise and that I should consider allowing him into my more advanced classes.” He then pulled his sleeve down his palm, “I took the opportunity to inquire as to the reasons behind her transfer. Her posture changed, and she became defensive. She only expressed that her time on USS Xīwàng was over.”

Spock’s bleak expression almost threw Jim off the edge. That was not what they needed to hear.

"You know what – “ Jim blurted out. “This is doing us no good. Okay, Spock?” He put up his hands in protest. “This is our evaluation, and no one else's, so we will do what we always do best and beat this.”

“There is nothing to _beat_.” Spock said with his voice a bit higher than the norm. “We will have no knowledge of THE SIMULATION once we are inside THE SIMULATION. Our obliviousness will force us to reveal things we would never reveal.”

“Spock, this is a test on our character.” Jim tried to reassure the half-Vulcan once more.

He got up and sat beside Spock, facing him with an earnest look. The close proximity between the two showed him Spock’s face in detail. The wrinkles on the side of Spock’s eyes deepened, and his upper lip scrunched up. Jim could even hear the slow pacing of his breaths, as if each one was controlled so that Spock could prevent a sigh.

“Last I checked, we are some pretty awesome people. If we reveal some things that we would prefer to keep to ourselves, then oh well. At the end of the day, we will be acknowledged for our positive traits. We have benefited Starfleet in ways they can't ignore."

Spock’s demeanor didn’t change. The sudden silence made Jim look at the scene with new thoughts. “Spock?” He inched closer, resting his palm on Spock's shoulder. “We saved Earth – Remember that.”

“Your logic is sound, Jim. However, I was willing to face this invasion of privacy in _private_ …“ Spock whispered. “You would not observe it, and I would return to the ship, and now …” His eyes were closed, and his head rested on the two thumbs closed together in front of him.

For a reason Jim didn’t know, he lifted his hand. At first he wanted to pat Spock’s head, but when his fingers slowly caressed the silky hair strands, he buried them under, feeling the heat of Spock’s skin underneath. Jim heard Spock swallow and watched his back move from Jim’s touches.

In Spock's words, it was fascinating.

“And now – you’ll be joined with my corrupt mind.” Jim tried to joke in a moment that only activated butterflies in his gut.

Like many times before, he decided to not dwell on it - it was preposterous.

Spock instantly opened his eyes, and quickly sat upright, it forced Jim to regrettably retract his fingers.

“I have never entered your mind, Jim but I can easily deduce that it is far from corrupt.”

Jim smiled at the off compliment. He made sure that when he had time alone, he would question as to what the fuck he was doing.

“Nevertheless, I have read T’Pol’s personal reports – the evaluation does not mimic a melding of minds, only placing them in the same illusion.” Spock’s frown deepened. “However, it is reckless to ignore how this will affect us … our working dynamic.”

From Captain Gerald’s message, they now both knew that Starfleet did not force the Captain and First Officer to separate if both obtained a PASS– they decided it among themselves. Only refusing would result in an immediate transfer despite the result.

Maybe it was possible for something so horrid to happen. It most probably happened with Captain Gerald and Commander Fey. Maybe they just couldn’t look at each other anymore... and that hurt more than a FAIL.

“Spock … “ Jim tried to ease his way into his question. “You’re not – you’re not scared … are you?”

That sigh Jim knew Spock was trying to prevent finally came out. “I fear of failure.”

“You fear nothing.” He expressed with utmost confidence. “We won’t, we can’t fail.”

“Ignoring the possibility will not eliminate it.”

Spock looked into Jim’s eyes, an action Jim was use to except, he felt a different meaning behind them, and it made Jim want to look away. He felt like an open book. The hurt that overwhelmed him would be too obvious to see in his eyes, so he concentrated on his lap.

“Do you really have such little hope in me?” He forced out. "Our results aren't going to be the same, if you think I'll screw you over - "

Spock shook his head. “You misunderstand me, Jim. All my hope resides in _you_.”

“So … “ Jim began, confused.

“I fear myself."

Jim could not come up with a reason as to why Spock would have anything to fear. Spock would obviously get a PASS if he took the SIM alone like he was supposed to, but Jim’s participation might make it harder to get a PASS. Regardless, Spock would PASS. Jim couldn’t see a situation where Spock wouldn’t. What was Spock so afraid of?

“I don’t care what happens.” Jim concluded as he patted his lap. “We will PASS. And when we do, no matter what happens, I will stay on my ship, and I refuse to let you leave.”

“You cannot be certain.”

Jim stood up, and circled behind the couch, his feet on the smooth wooden floor.  “I’m making tea. Want some?”

Spock turned around, quizzically looking at the Captain with elbow on the back of the couch.  “Jim – “

“Shut up, Spock.” He said with zero snide and anger. “You will have this tea, and I am going to make lunch. We will watch movies with which we will perpetually comment on its absurdity, and then you will stay for the night."

It’s not like he hasn’t done it before.

Spock’s brows furrowed.

“If you think this is our last time together, then we won’t waste a minute. Then, we’ll walk into the SIM tomorrow night - together.”

Spock blinked a few times with his mouth slightly open.

“I’m going to take that as a ‘ _yes’_.” He placed the cups on the counter with assertiveness. 

Spock snapped his jaw back up. “Yes.”

“Good.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spock and his doubts - tsk, tsk.
> 
> I wonder what he's hiding ...
> 
> ~X


	5. SIM - PART TWO

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another SIM chapter!  
> I seriously love exploring this world. 
> 
> Song: If Only I Could by Brooks
> 
> Warning: Slightly Offensive Religious Content (distorted, different beliefs)
> 
> PS - I don't have a medical degree. o.O

** SIM - PART TWO**

 

  
 

The clouds were the only undisturbed things on this planet. Jim’s morning runs gave him the opportunity to look into the calm terrain and feel the warmth on his skin. The roads were dry. They were soulless as the buildings were abandoned.

Isolation meant comfort and safety.

Except, it also meant loneliness.

Being alone was something that came with more pros than cons. Being near survivors was something he wouldn’t risk again.

Just run.

Run.

Jim panted with each step in his daily jog. The sprint from his near death the night before reminded him that his body had limitations. The weeks with no pain were an illusion – a pause of the inevitable.

He would call it weak, but Bud would frown at his negativity. The world already ended. No one, not even a mannequin needed that negativity.

A primary way to cope was to find methods of stability. The energy drinks were sent down as a sign from God. His body instantly became rejuvenated with each sip. It was a way to go on.

Hell, it was better than resorting to cocaine for this body to function properly.

During the first stages of the invasion, everyone stole everything in sight when they should have been properly sealing their homes. Luckily, no one thought to steal his version of cocaine – energy drinks.

Pills and medicine though … those were missions he’d never forget. When pushed to the brink, humanity became no different than animals.

He breathed in the moist-less air as he ran and ran, feeling more alive.

_Stress, but not too much stress._

_Far, but not too far._

He repeated the mantras that were vital to his survival.

It was safe.

Simple.

**Boring.**

**  
**

.

.

.

 

Karim leaned back in his seat next to Steven and crossed his arms to let out the biggest sigh he could. Pre-Apocalypse Karim would have said it’s too damn early to function, but Post-Apocalypse Karim did not waste a second of daylight.

Daylight meant guaranteed safety.

Despite the base being perfectly sealed every night – the nights still presented a risk. The current dormant behavior of the lights did little to ease his nerves.

Anastasia, Markus and the Chief were once again outside – not for scouting, but to retrieve the crazy incognito fellow that ran from the blue light.

So far, the guy was white … and blond – and as the Chief suspected – Alone. With their current view, they could see that the man wore more revealing clothes. The white shirt and gym shorts revealed a physique that should have been impossible to maintain unless he had a decent base.

_Who the hell was this guy?_

“Stop arguing and concentrate on the mission at hand!” Steven yelled into his microphone. “Idiots.” The side comment was more for Karim’s ears.

Anastasia and Markus were in their truck, arguing about nonsense. Karim could hear the Chief sigh on the other end.

“The fat bastard’s hiding in a safety box and letting us burn.” Markus blurted out.

“He’s certainly dead, Markus!” Anastasia’s voice was low and bored with Markus’ antics.

“Please, I bet the second the fucking lights showed up, the President hid in his bunker. Bet he’s eating one fat Twinkie right now. Fat – “

“… bastard. We know. Now, shut up.” Steven barked into the microphone. "You're Marine for Christ sake!"

"Exactly! You'd think he would have let us in on the end of times, but nooo ----"

Karim rolled his eyes and focused on the monitor. The main screen in the middle showed the view of the camera from the truck. The one on the right showed the light less sky while the one on the left showed the man from the other night.

 “The possible demise of the President is not our concern, nor our priority.” The Chief’s voice was the most calm in the council.

“You have to be a little curious?” Markus taunted the Chief.

“Not in the least. His life is not beneficial to ours even if he spontaneously resurfaced, preaching a solution after the deaths of billions."  


Karim held in his laugh, which ended up being a loud, ugly snort.

The Chief ignored it. “Visuals?”

Steven tilted his head to look at the target’s surroundings. “Just as you suspected. Our target is … he is …” The subtle hesitation was enough to make everyone hyper aware.

Karim instantly scanned every bit of the three screens. What he eventually saw wasn’t pretty. He abruptly stood up and pointed at the screen. The small grey blob near the target made him quake in his boots.

“No, he’s not!”

Shit, shit and shit times infinity.

Steven gulped. “You guys are going to need to drive faster."

“State your observations.” The Chief demanded over their worried voices.

Karim was rooting for this guy. If they didn’t hurry, then the target would become one ugly shishkabob, and that was not good. The road would be painted in gunks of red right before their eyes.

“He’s about to become food, Chief.” Steven answered.

Markus’s whistle was loud and long. “I haven’t shot anything in a while!"  The sound of excitement echoed in the Security room. 

“I advise that you avoid any injury to our target.”

“It’s like you don’t know me, Spock.”

“Sometimes I regret that I do.”

**  
**

.

.

.

 

On his run back, Jim could have sworn he heard a growl in between recorded segments of the news and other unfortunate events. He took out his earphones and stopped in place. He looked around the sand coated buildings and felt a shiver up his spine.

He was alone, and yet his body reacted in defense. With one foot in front of the other, he slowed down his harsh breathing and scouted the area.

In the black spaces of one building in front of him, the garage entrance showed a moving silhouette distorting in ways he didn’t recognize. When he realized he wasn’t alone, a pair of yellow, bright, perfectly aligned circles flashed behind the darkness.

“Shit.”

On pure instinct, Jim took off, leaving dust behind him. Quick taps on the ground erupted behind him. He looked up at the sky praying that he would make it home. He wasn’t ready to die.

And even if he were going to die, he would rather become ashes than become food.

He closed his eyes, ignoring the sounds of paws accelerating behind him. He kept moving forward, because he knew that if he looked back, it would be the last thing he did.

Stress, but not too much stress – a mantra he needed to keep alive became a mantra he would have to ignore for the time being – he would deal with the consequences later.

“Not today. “ His body couldn’t give in. “Not today.”

Run.

.

.

.

 

The vibration from the truck’s speed was of no disturbance. Markus stood up, poking half of his body outside of the roofless vehicle with a disturbing grin on his face. Anastasia adjusted her sunglasses and prepared her weapon.

Spock hit the accelerator, kept one hand on the wheel while the other held his weapon. He was extra careful to avoid any obstacles that would prevent them from safely reaching their target.

When he reassessed this mission during lock down, he knew it would have been logical to leave the stranger alone, but logic was a thought he rarely relied on in the last year. The target could easily be someone who obtained no morals or loyalty. Perhaps the target killed everyone he met in the past, hence a proper base with no other civilians.

Was it truly a coincidence that they knew of this stranger and after only a few hours, the stranger needed them to save him?

For reasons without factual evidence, he felt that this man could potentially be beneficial to their base. Spock wanted to provide a family, a home to someone who was isolated, like he was once isolated and the world turned against him.

Except, did this man not care to live enough? The reckless, ill-advised actions were substantial proof.

He felt that he needed to understand this man, his lifestyle and his rash decision-making.

Spock felt. He always has, but the difference now was that he listened.

Instinct.

As Markus dubbed it – a gut feeling.

Anastasia called it a sixth sense.

Spock gave in to it and listened.

He would find out where this urge came from when he could afford the time. The worry that ignited through him after Steven’s announcement of the target’s impending doom was something he responded to without question.

“Shoot on sight.”

Markus winked as he looked behind his sniper.

“Yes, Chief.”

 

.

.

.

 

It was over. The apartment presented itself.

The growling and barks multiplied as he sprinted to shelter. They got louder and he could feel the pain increase in his calves and chest. He knew what came after.

If he continued, he wouldn’t make it.

He looked at the abandoned hovercraft near his home and with no time for proper deliberation, he opened the door and jumped in. Within seconds, three cougars slammed their bodies at the windows giving it a harsh crack.

He shook at the impact.

If he didn’t know better, he would claim that the animals went through some type of mutation.

It was a better excuse to accept than just hunger.

It was a hunger only Jim could satisfy.

He pressed his palms on his ears, and shut his eyes, hoping they would go away before sundown. If they stayed, whether he remained inside or walked out – he was a dead man.

To be chewed out – or to be burned out – It was a tough question.

Was there any pain when one approached the light? No one knew.

No matter. Jim would probably soon find out.

With a loud exhale, he unplugged the earphones out of his music player and put the words he came to memorize on speaker.

He felt everything closing in on him.

 

> _“These – These lights are like nothing we’ve encountered before. You say aliens, but we say … no, we know this is an act of God._
> 
>  
> 
> _That’s right._
> 
>  
> 
> _I am not ashamed to speak on what we all are thinking. Just because we have abandoned our Creator, does not mean He has abandoned us. We accepted these abominations to our planet with wide arms, indulged in their non human ways, called this disgusting behavior 'cultural integration', and we must suffer the consequences. We are being judged for our blasphemous actions. Think on this brothers and sisters._
> 
> _Is this really an “invasion”, or is this a purging?_
> 
> _Animals are not touched._
> 
> _Every blasted alien on this planet is gone._
> 
> _Who remains?_
> 
> _Us._
> 
> _**[And God looked upon the earth, and, behold, it was corrupt; for all flesh had corrupted his way upon the earth.]** _
> 
> _We are of Earth, and we remain not by accident, but because it was His plan.”_

 

The damaged hovercraft shook with each slam on the sides. Drool slid down the windows and as Jim followed the thick saliva dripping to the bottom, his right leg began to shake. Although he was inside, he could smell their breaths. It was filled with rotten meat and old blood.

His teeth then started to create a beat, which he realized he couldn't stop.

Stress, but not too much stress.

This was why.

He pressed both palms on the roof and shut his eyelids to dim the pain.

Jim was trapped in the hovercraft, and he was also trapped in his body. The abyss of his limited body captured him to make him prisoner.

He was too far-gone to hear the cougars cry in pain.

 

**  
**

.

.

.

 

"Dang, the Captain can run!"

"Is he going to make it?"

"Please - He can't die this early in the SIM. The Commander's almost there with that crazy Markus guy."

Guffaws exploded at the mention of the ex-Marine add-on.

_**Beep.** _

_**Beep.** _

_**Beep.** _

The eyes glued to the screen became distracted by the sudden noise, causing the laughter to die a quick death.

Subtle whispers ignited into loud demands in the SIMULATION medical room. Jim's monitors were screaming into Hail Mary, and so was Leonard's heart. The cougars were only on the main screen, but he felt them in the room with him, snarling and breathing near his face. He felt Jim's fear.

The rattles of Jim's biobed shocked everyone into stopping their current activities. There were six people, including Leonard, and they were all concentrated on Jim.

"It's a stroke!"

"It's not a stroke - The Captain's seizing!"

Leonard took a few steps forward and yelled. "Tilt him to the side!"

Within seconds the four other physicians aided Jim to the side. Leonard held Jim's jaw tightly with one hand and saw the white fluid exuding from his mouth. He considered this a possibility during the first stages of radiation therapy. The swelling to Jim's brain went down months ago. This was one belated reaction he hoped would never happen again. "There's too much intracranial pressure."

It was spontaneous and a shit storm from the Universe. 

M'Benga power-walked to the other side of the room and scanned Jim with his Medical tricorder. Hypotheses were expressed before the scan was even complete.

"What could be the cause of his swelling?" Another voice questioned.

"He doesn't have a tumor..."

"It could be viral."

"Bacterial?"

"It's from the radiation!" M'Benga yelled at the ones holding Jim. They all opened their mouths in realization.

"Either way, we need to drain the Cerebrospinal fluid." Dr. Kim suggested.

"Then we have to stop the program ..."

"We can't." Another said with a frown. "We aren't allowed to. He'll FAIL."

The shaking stopped. Leonard bit his tongue because Jim's tremors didn't just slow down. The tremors went into a immediate halt.  Jim looked like a body that failed to restart after a CLEAR. A failed defibrillation. 

Jim's medical clearance would have to be revoked.

"We can, and we will." Leonard announced as his brows furrowed together.

"Not without the permission of ..."

"I'll get it! Just administer the anticonvulsant." He blurted out with a frown. He would have walked out of the room right there and then, but he couldn't leave until Jim became more stable. At least the stubborn kid was getting oxygen to his brain.

This SIM was one of the more twisted ones. One would think that the SIM operators created the worlds, but Leonard found out that it was the mind that painted the design it would be temporarily stuck in. The operators just filled in the blanks to make it more realistic.

Leonard was skeptical ... that was until his own SIM.

The canvas of the mind should be one of familiarity.

It could easily be a mix of Spock and Jim, but one of them must have been more prominent.  Either way, what mind was familiar with the end of the world?

Spock.

The screen on the top of the room showed a version of Spock, Leonard would never get use to. The Commander was dressed in black from head to toe with a hairstyle that was slightly overgrown, causing bangs to be sleeked back. He noticed that no matter what, Spock hid his ears.

With good reason too.

"What the hell is going on?" He muttered under his breath.

"I'm afraid that I'm at a loss as well, Dr. McCoy." M'Benga crossed his arms as he switched his gaze from the Spock on the screen and the one on the biobed. "Regardless, I believe they'll PASS."

Leonard scoffed. "Screw the PASS. Will they be fine? Think of the damage this will cause."

He heard no answer. Leonard turned to M'Benga who had the most annoying smirk on his face.

"Now, McCoy - I thought you out of everyone here would know that these two will always take care of each other."

"Even if the world is full of pixels and killer aliens?"

"Even then."

"Right ..."

Leonard didn't like this.

Not one bit.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The quote from the recording is Genesis 6:11.  
> I don't mean to offend any religious values. I like to explore the different thought processes when a situation like "the end of the world" comes up. It won't all be negative, I assure you.  
> Thank you for reading!  
> ~X


	6. SIM - PART THREE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They meet!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The SIM world expands!  
> Once again, I don't mean any offense regarding the distorted religious content.  
> Song: Halo (Acoustic) by Starset
> 
> ~X
> 
> PS - Thank you all for the love. It really brings me inspiration to write more :)

** SIM - PART THREE **

 

 

 

> **_She is to be judged!_ **

_All the technology – scientific advances – increased knowledge of the universe and everything else did nothing to change the essence of humanity. Humanity remained the same. The love for war – blame, displacement of fury. Jim stomped in each step down the rugged hall, emanating his anger as he walked to his room in Camp Salvatus._

_It was a small establishment of fifty- eight. A small establishment of survivors. Jim questioned their logic on several occasions, but it never mattered. They had food, a properly sealed bunker with people he could talk to, no matter how abnormal the conversations._

_As the lights became more dormant, he noticed the seriousness in their crazy notions. Every day in there was a day alive, and he lost a bit of himself each day with it. Salvatus was a base he lived in for five months, and today was his last day._

_He had no choice. Either he would leave or he would die by his own hand, and he wasn’t ready for that._

 

 

 

> **_Judge her!_**
> 
> **_How dare you live among us? You are the reason we hide – the reason God has descended His final straw onto us. The cleansing would have never been complete if you continued to hide – you selfish bane of this planet!_ **
> 
> **_Judge her!_ **

****

_There was no order. Jim shoved all he could into one bag, and half of that consisted of tape. His blood was boiling bubbles loud enough for him to be unaware of the intruder in his room._

_“Kirk?”_

_The voice came from a woman he would have had no qualms in calling sweet, classy and intelligent. Gigi was a woman that would have graduated from the Academy a year ago, if the invasion never took place. When he shockingly witnessed Gigi chant [Judge her!] with everyone else, Jim dubbed her a disgusting excuse of a human, an ugly bystander that he could no longer look at. Her innocent appearance was only a mask to hide the true nature of her ignorance._

_Wars – wars were seeded with the mentality she had._

_She was the template of a sheep._

_“You’re not seriously thinking of leaving, are you?” Gigi invited herself in while moving her chestnut bangs away from her tired eyes. The grey toned clothes were similar to Jim’s, similar to everyone._

_He scoffed as he shoved some of the water in his bag. If he traveled far enough, he could reach a town that perished prior to all the stores being cleaned out._

_Hopefully he wouldn’t come across any more survivors. Everyone had officially lost it. The lights became more dormant. As long as he was careful, he could make it somewhere – anywhere, but here._

_“Kirk, think about this. You can’t risk your life out there just because you’re angry.”_

_“And my anger is not justified?!” He swiftly turned around, glaring all his hatred to the less threatening target. A part of Jim wanted to assassinate the leader instead, but he knew that there would be no point. The leader was the Lernaean Hydra. Cut one head off, another follower would take his place._

_She flinched back at Jim’s outburst. “It’s her fault!”_

_Gigi’s presence was making him quake, but he couldn’t afford to waste the daylight that would soon present itself.  “You all judged Urain for nothing.” He pointed a shaking finger at her. “You all forced her outside that door in the false light. You all chanted while blatantly ignoring her cries."  
_

_Never mind the fact that the judging was never meant for them, nor would it ever be. - He hated this place with every part of his tainted soul._

_Gigi placed her palms on her full hips with pursed lips. “She acted like she was one of us, Kirk. We saw the error and we judged it.”_

_“It was an execution!” He stepped closer to her, exhaling sharp air from his nostrils. This environment was degrading his morals. “I don’t care if she was half-Betazoid. Let’s put aside the fact that she’s been on Earth for over a decade. She was a sentient fucking being!”_

_“She was an abomination!” She blurted out with her hands up, clasping her head in an ill-deserved confusion. “I understand you never truly implemented our ways and that was fine, but I’m starting to doubt if you’re even a believer Kirk. When push came to shove, you chickened out!”  
_

_He bit the inside of his lip and nodded, stepping back to his supplies. “I’m a believer alright. I just don’t believe in this murderous God you all preach about.”_

_She huffed and pressed her hand on the door, clearly moving away so Jim could walk through. “Well, you’ll meet Him soon then, won’t you?”_

_“And what will you say to Him when you do, huh Gigi? Let’s face it. You all talk about God, but in reality you worship a man.” He scowled._

_The change in Gigi’s posture was subtle, but Jim caught it with no difficulty._

_Jim continued, “You listen and crawl under a sick man’s feet. This has nothing to do with God. This has everything to do with that bastard’s ego and your existence is nothing but a reason to satiate his thirst for acknowledgment.”_

_Her nose scrunched up. “And to think I actually liked you, Kirk.” She stepped closer and dropped her voice to a whisper, truly believing with all her heart that he would feel an ounce of guilt. “Too bad you’ll burn.”_

_An unexpected smirk emerged on Jim’s face. “Last I checked…” A chuckle escaped his throat as he fixed the bag on his back. “- the world burns every night.”_

 

 

.

.

.

Something was wrong.

Steven expressed that the target made it to this area unscathed. Although there was a clear sign of safety, the man never proceeded to leave the hovercraft. When the whines of the animals halted, Spock left the truck running near the hovercraft.

Anastasia walked behind him as he approached the quiet, eerie silence. The wind tussled his hair back in unmanageable strands, and he narrowed his eyes for a clearer view. His weapon was prepared to engage if anything unexpected were to take place.

Spock ignored his beating heart while clenching harder to his gun. His emotions were running rapid like the spontaneous change in the weather.

Anastasia squared her shoulders, and covered the top over her forehead to prevent the droplets of rain on her face. “Kiddo! We saved you, so bring your behind out here so we can talk!”

Spock lifted a brow at her and she shrugged in response. Against instinct, Spock took a couple steps forward until he was in front of the back window. The windows were tinted, so he was unable to look inside. Raising his hands up to signal his non-threatening nature would be futile.

He knocked on the door and as he suspected, there was no response. With a quick motion, he opened the door to reveal the target lying on the floor.

The target was motionless. The static from inside the hovercraft was irritating, its perpetual tune taunting. The man was pale as he lay on his arms, pink fluid dripping from the side of his mouth. He sighed in relief when he saw the target’s chest moving.

This was a classic aftermath of a seizure. Spock crouched inside the hot, dry space, ignoring the warnings from his council and came face to face with the target.

A spark of familiarity flowed through him as he took in the details of a face. His mind could only come up with one word - Beautiful.

The shuddering thunderclap took him away from the distraction.

 

Spock blinked a few times too many and pushed aside the thought. He touched the target’s left shoulder to lay him on his back. Fortunately, he had a napkin in his pocket, so he took it out with a quick shake.

The steps behind him stopped and he felt Anastasia behind him. Her eyes were burning through his back. Spock used the tip of the napkin and wiped the target’s mouth, flipped the material to wipe the sweat from his face.

Anastasia crawled in, next to Spock and picked up an object he could not see from his view.

The static must have been from the object since it became louder with contact.

 

“He gets energy drinks – he jogs and he listens to music.” She huffed. “It’s like he doesn’t know the world’s went to shit.”

Spock carefully looked at the target. “Maybe he was prepared for his world to cease. Maybe this invasion was of no difference."

She looked at the target, then to Spock. “We can’t take in someone that’s ill, Spock. It’ll be a waste of resources. I’m sorry, but – “

“I refuse to abandon him when he is clearly incapable of taking care of himself.” He stated. “We are here to fulfill our primary objective. Our mission will not be compromised simply because it has grown a little difficult.”

The specific tone he used in his voice was one that was always met with compliance. As expected, Anastasia nodded.

“Yes, Chief.”

 

The earpiece rang before a voice came in. “Bad news.” Steven said. “I don’t know why or how, but there is a hurricane forming. It would only slow you guys down. Warehouse is on lockdown, and to be frank, I don’t think you’ll make it home without wasting our precious gas.”

“Shit.” Anastasia cursed. “We have no choice, but to come back. The lights will be out in a few hours.”

“There could be more flesh-eating animals out there – I'll take my chances with the lights.” Markus barked through the line.

“Steven.” Spock said while holding his index finger under his ear. “How far are we from our target’s base?”

“See that apartment right there with the burgundy door – “

The rain came down harder, greeting the floor with a loud splat.

“This guy lives in an apartment? How is that going to be safe from the lights?” Anastasia complained.

“It was obviously safe enough for the target to live there.” Spock answered her. He crawled back out of the small space and spotted the burgundy door. He noticed that the apartment looked more kept than the ones surrounding it. “Let’s debark for his base.” He announced.

 

It would only be for one night. Their base was under lockdown, and they could leave when the sun became present.

He crawled back in and placed both hands under the limp body and carried it out. He saw Markus’ face twist at the sight before coming out of the truck to aid them in.

Once they all got inside the truck, Spock placed the target on the floor and sat next to him. Markus took the wheel and soon after, Spock felt the shaking of the truck’s movements.

Spock’s damp hair stuck to his face, and he moved it away. He took off his leather jacket and tapped the water off the surface before placing it on the target.

The pupils under the target’s eyelids were moving from left to right. A low moan came from the man, which earned looks from everyone in the truck. The breathing became shorter, sharper, and Spock grew more paranoid with each breath.

“Spock?” Anastasia said in the front seat. She took out one earphone and frowned at him. She lifted the device she retrieved earlier. “You’re going to want to hear this.”

 

.

.

.

 

_[Were we not made in His image!?! Are tentacles, scaly skin, blue/pink/yellow/green blood, His image?_

_Was Jesus a self-fucking hermaphrodite?_

_No._

_Our political correctness has prevented us from creating the border God meant for us to have. If we were meant to be above the skies, instructions would have been written in the scripture._

_We are here so that we can witness this purging. We are an example of how ever loving and understanding He is._

_As He cleans this Earth, he created a border – an impenetrable border of everlasting light!]_

 

 

**.**

**.**

**.**

Jim clung to his blankets while he stretched his sore limbs. He loved his bed. Out of all the homes here, this apartment had the best mattress. Memory foam was an invention that deserved all the praises. He loved this apartment. It was a place he made his home.

A home he had no idea how he got back into.

Last time Jim checked, he was being frozen inside his body. The stench of blood still climbed up his nostrils. A deep laugh came from outside his door, and in a second, Jim jumped off his bed.

He didn’t care for his slightly wet clothes. The drawers in his room were all out and everything remained inside – everything but his guns.

The windows in his room were sealed so he had no idea what time it was. Could he run outside and risk it again?

After a heavy sigh he heard footsteps approaching his room.

 

“I think he’s awake – “

 

“Why do we even bother? He’s an ignorant creep with a creepier painted doll to boot. Seriously, what the fuck?"

 

“I admit - this environment is a peculiar sight. The mannequin might be a tool to ease his lack of social interaction.”

 

Jim closed his mouth to mute the sound of relief. He didn’t recognize the voices at all.

 

“Or he belongs in a loony bin.”

 

Yep, he most definitely didn’t. However, this did not mean that they weren’t hostile people. They might have saved him to fulfill their own sick agendas. He didn’t know.

He didn’t care.

Jim had to escape.

 

He ran to one of the windows and tore up a bit of tape. It revealed the darkness with foreign swirling lights.

Shit.

The door handle twisted and Jim blocked the door from opening by abruptly pressing his back to it.

 

“Now we know he’s awake.” One of the three voices uttered. “We’re not here to kill you, if you were wondering.” The deep male voice laughed.

 

Another male voice came through. “Hello, Jim.”

 

Jim’s eyes widened and his knees threatened to give out. He never told anyone his name. He never trusted a soul enough for that information.

 

“I am Spock. With me I have Anastasia and Markus. We mean no harm.”

 

“Yea?!” Jim yelled out. “How do I know that? You took my guns!”

 

“It was a logical action to guarantee our safety.”

 

A female voice came through, sounding annoyed. “Honestly, we could have killed you while you were seizing.” Anastasia said. “Isn’t that proof enough.”

 

Jim wiped his face, wondering why he had to put himself in this situation. He should have just stayed home. “Maybe your goal was to find my shielded house and take it over.”

“You were unconscious for four hours. That is ample opportunity to scout the premises then eliminate you.” The smoother male voice stated. This ‘Spock’ sounded less annoyed than the rest. “I am sure you can deduce why we have not. As I stated before, we mean you no harm.”

 

Jim could try to hold them off until morning, but there was no guarantee that it would work. He took a step forward, letting his stupidity enable him to trust Spock … for the moment.

He would just hope they don’t kill him and in the morning – he would have to scout for a new place to live, and that was more of a bummer than anything.

Goodbye mattress.

 

With both fists enclosed on each side, he breathed in to braced himself for the inevitable.

The door slowly opened, then paused. After a moment, it opened the rest of the way, and Jim was faced with three people dressed in the same color as the night sky. They looked like they belonged in the darkness.

Before examining their faces, Jim spotted the weapons on their hips. He gulped and forced himself to look up.

The one on the right had a body made of rock and was the tallest out of everyone. He nudged his head and lifted a hand up. “Markus.” His teeth were bright when contrasted with his skin as he smiled.

Anastasia didn’t smile at him. She only looked at him from toe, to hair follicle - like a science experiment.

The one in the middle held out one of Jim’s water bottles and had an orange jar in the other hand. Jim hesitantly walked to Spock, took the two items and stepped back.

 

“Welcome to my disarranged abode.” Jim cleared his throat. “Now, how in the fuck do you know my name?”

 

Spock lifted his thick, weird eyebrow and looked at Anastasia. The woman tossed something on Jim’s bed.

He turned to look at it and noticed that it was his music player. It would always say a **‘Greetings, Jim.”** in the front.

 

“Interesting recordings in there.” Markus snorted.

 

Jim found Spock’s gaze disquieting. He didn’t know the man, but he somehow had the urge to explain himself to Spock, to them. “They’re just recordings. It reminds me to keep away from people.”

It reminded Jim that people lie.

 

“I’m not xenophobic.” He announced without looking at anyone in particular.

 

People didn’t take responsibility for their actions.

People did anything to add value to his/her life.

 

“Good.” Markus said, like there would have been consequences if Jim said otherwise. “And I gotta say, I liked the recording with the President telling everyone to remain calm.”

 

Jim rolled his eyes. “That fat bastard.” He whispered under his breath.

 

Instantly, loud laughs erupted from Markus, and Anastasia followed suit. Jim fluttered his eyes in confusion, and saw the small smirk from Spock.

Markus wiped his eyes and walked back to the living room, unable to hold in his laughs. Anastasia shook her head before going back as well. She patted Spock's back, probably signaling that they were nearby if Spock needed anything.

 

Jim took the opportunity to swallow two aspirins and chugged the contents inside the bottle.   He must have been alone for too long, because Spock’s unwavering stare made him uneasy. Whether it was excitement or anxiety, he did not know.

 

“So …” He managed to say.

 

“The council and I have not come across a survivor for three hundred and seventy-two days. We assumed the state to be void of humanoid life until yesterday.”

 

Jim refused to mention Camp Salvatus on the northern region. “I assumed the world to be void of sanity.”

 

“Do you believe to have lost your sanity?” Spock asked, questionably concerned.

 

“I’m almost there.” Jim joked as he plopped onto the side of his bed.

 

“Your mental functions could be degrading as a result from your epilepsy.”

 

The man clearly didn't get that Jim was trying to be humorous. “What makes you think I’m epileptic?

 

“Your voice did not falter when we stated that you had underwent a seizure.” Spock explained. “You also have hundreds of pill containers in your kitchen."

 

“Well, I don’t have a name for it. It just happens sometimes. I don’t know – and honestly, I barely care. It’s not like there’s a doctor around here.”

 

A weight pressed down next to Jim. He turned to look at the man in leather.

Spock’s lips had sharp edges to it and carried no pink hues. Under the thickest black lashes were pupils of coal. There was so much to discover, and yet he felt like he knew enough to start the foundation for trust. It was nothing like he felt before.

 

“What if I were able to provide medical aid?"

 

Jim narrowed his eyes at Spock. “Are _you_ a doctor?”

 

“Negative.” Spock closed his eyes and shook his head. “However, we have one at our base, and I believe she will help. You could learn things, such as the consequences of caffeine and neurotin, and how it would be wise to avoid the mixture." 

Jim imaged the purple cans and pills. “You’re willing to expose your base to a stranger?”

 

“Our initial goal was to bring you to our base. We spotted light activity through our radar and video surveillance. It led us to you. We can provide a shelter that is less risky than the one you have created here."

 

Jim flinched … “Radar? Surveillance? How did you guys get the material for all of that?” Realization flooded through him. “You guys military?”

 

Spock’s silence was an indicator of Jim's thoughts.

 

“Markus was a former Marine. Anastasia and I are former Starfleet officers.”

 

“Starfleet?!” Jim jumped off his bed. “No wonder you guys are still alive. You probably knew everything!”

 

"Negative."

 

"Lies!"

 

"You misunderstand - "

 

"You were probably prepared!"

 

“We were blindsided!” Spock yelled back and closed his mouth instantly.

 

No. Jim wouldn’t believe those lies. “Don’t insult me, Spock. Or is it Ensign Spock – Maybe Lieutenant, or is it – “

 

“Stop.” Spock clenched the bridge of his nose.

 

“Sure. I’ll stop, Lieutenant Spock!” He barked with all his hatred and slight envy.

 

“Commander.” Spock corrected with a low huff.

 

Jim's jaw fell. “Commander – My fucking luck. How is a Commander clueless to the end of the world? Is your base full of Starfleet?!”

 

He already ran away from Camp Salvatus. He would be damned to be around a bunch of elite know-it-alls that had a memo about the end of times.

 

“Twelve personnel are ex-military while thirteen are ex-Starfleet. That is out of one hundred and fifty men and women. If we knew of the lights’ nature prior to their first attack, there would have been more survivors, Jim. We would have created a proper shelter. There would be thousands of us alive."

 

A crackle sparked, and it vibrated in the room walls. The crackle was of a pattern Jim knew all too well. The lights were merging together in all their colors. It was a beautiful sight he once experience a few months back. He never knew that beauty could be so full of death and danger until then.

 

Spock closed his eyes and breathed in. “No one can survive in this world alone. We are here to provide another option.”

 

“I’m not sure.” Jim didn’t know what to do. Why did Spock have to sound so genuine? Either Spock was an honest man or the best con man out there. “As you can tell with the recordings, the last people I surrounded myself with were crazy.”

 

“I have yet to lose my sanity.”

 

Jim pointed at Spock. “But there is a possibility. You're not special."

 

"Anything is possible with the proper variables, but I can guarantee that I will endeavor to keep my sanity to the utmost degree."

 

Jim took a few steps into Spock’s space with a scrutinizing stare. Although he heard the static from the outside, he felt a charge between them and it left him electrified.

He was an electron that felt compelled to draw closer to it, and the awareness of it all took him out of his comfort zone. It wasn’t as if Spock suddenly became a threat, but his body was on the defense for something else entirely.

He ignored the tightness in his stomach and stepped back, hoping to find some of the comfort again.

 

“You give me your word?” Jim held out his hand.

 

Spock flicked down to the hand and nodded. Both their palms clasped together. “I give you my – “

 

Pain.

 

A hot energy made home in Jim’s veins and invaded his body. For the first time in the darkness, Jim felt complete safety. The wave engulfed his fears and shined a light he only felt in the early mornings. The sun was in him, fighting the false light. Jim was floating.

 

It was as if everything was reversed.

 

Skin departed from skin, and Jim stood there clueless and aching to retrieve that feeling again. He rubbed his eyes, and noticed Spock holding his palm with a shocked expression.

Jim gazed at Spock’s face, taking in the hair and weird eyebrows. “What are you?” He uttered.

 

Spock stepped back as if in fear. He opened his mouth and closed it.

 

Weren’t all aliens burned? The last one he saw was Urain, and he didn’t even know of her until she became ashes from the hands of Camp Salvatus.

 

Spock opened his mouth. “What are _you_?” He repeated Jim's question.

 

What was he?  “I’m human.”

 

“No.” Spock’s coal pupils bore into Jim, and he felt more naked than ever. “No, you are not.”

 

 

.

.

.

 

The first time Spock realized he lost his abilities was when Markus held the back of his neck as they ran from a flaring ruby light.

 

As they hid under an old building, he braced himself for the wave of unwanted thoughts and memories. Unexpectedly, they never engulfed him. Instead, he felt nothing. Markus assumed Spock froze in fear from the near death experience when in actuality; he froze from the realization that a part of him might have died without his knowledge.

 

Despite logic, he refused to accept the demise of his telepathy. With every opportunity that presented itself to touch another, he took it without hesitation. He was Vulcan.

 

And Vulcans had telepathy.

 

Karim would ask for a high-five, knowing very well that Spock would ignore it. It was a humorous gesture with the inevitable rejection. except he took the chance to see what information he could gather. He ignored his built-in cultural taboo on multiple occasions ever since. Every touch, even the ones that should have granted him an ounce of sexual pleasure was void of everything.  His mind was unable to connect with another on the most basic level.

 

He lost the ability to connect on a deeper level, and a part of him cracked with each re-discovery.

 

When the invasion first began, all of those that were not from Earth either perished by the lights or by the hands of the humans. They decided to ‘reclaim’ Terra.

It was impossible to consult with another Vulcan on this planet. Many non-Terrans were deceased, or bloodthirsty for revenge. It was a massacre. In the night, Spock would attempt to meditate and reconnect with his core. All attempts would fizzle into nothing with a low whistle.

 

He would look at the stars to remind himself that Vulcan was still out there. Although he thought of other Federation planets, he never thought on them in great detail. His home would try to retrieve him, save him. So why was it that when he attempted to connect to his home, he would receive nothing in response?

 

Where was his telepathy?

Where were his people?

Where was his home?

Who was he?

His base was filled with loyal, friendly people he came to care for however, he was entirely alone.

Who was he?

 

Jim’s skin initiated a reaction he was not prepared for. His katra cried for the contact. Spock had to do everything in him to hold back and remain a decent distance away. He wanted to touch every part of that flushed skin.

 

 

> _[Please don’t let them judge her -_
> 
> _Does it sound pathetic to say I’m lonely, Bud?_
> 
> _God, where are you?_
> 
> _Drinks, drinks and more drinks! Want some Bud? No, of course not._
> 
> _I wonder if it hurts to burn?]_

 

The gates opened, and Spock felt pain. He also felt Jim’s. “What are you?”

 

“I’m human.”

 

“No.” Spock glared at the man who reminded his mind exactly what it was deprived of for so long.

There must have been another reason. “No, you are not.”

 

If he regained a connection from this man, then it was not because he was human. Otherwise he would have felt it before.

Except, this man appeared … human? He bled crimson.

If so – then why him?

Why?

The room twirled around him, and he lost the functions of his legs. The anchor was falling.

 

“Why …” He asked.

 

“Spock?” Jim’s voice caressed his mind, and he almost wanted to cry from the sadness mixed with complete relief. “Spock!”

 

Jim reminded him of whom he was.

.

.

.

 

Although Jim had help in the real world, he was facing these seizures alone in the SIM. Leonard wanted to hug Spock's body for being there. Because of Spock, Jim woke up in a bed and not in a pool of his own drool for once. He hated this world. He hated what Spock and Jim had to go through.

And for God's sake, who's dumb idea was it to start a hurricane?!

He had the SIM operators on speed dial, and he did not hesitate to use it. 

 

_"Dr. Mc...McCoy."_

The operator sounded slightly scared. Good.

"How bad do you plan on making this hurricane?"

_"It will be a category four, but the winds around the Captain's apartment won't be fast enough to damage anything. Flash floods won't be enabled."_

"And the cougars? Who did the cougars!?" Leonard barked.

_"Uhh - I did?"_

"And why would you do that? Is this how you repay a Captain who's saved your behind by saving this planet?" Leonard seethed through his teeth.

 _"It was an order from the higher ups. I'm sorry, I can't say why Dr. McCoy."_ The operator's voice became a broken whisper. Leonard could sense the apologetic nature of the man.  _"I'm really sorry."_

As soon as the connection broke, the machines blared. Leonard switched his gaze to the screen just in time to watch Spock fall to the floor.

 

“Spock, hang in there.” M’Benga tapped Spock’s cheeks with gloved hands.

“It must have been from the telepathic connection. He hasn’t had it in too long M’Benga.” Leonard frowned while staring at the screen.  Anastasia and Markus aided their Chief while Jim looked in distraught, not allowed to touch Spock.

 

_"Look, I swear he just fainted."_

 

_"Chief doesn't faint, ever."_

 

“Either way, his levels are too high. Spock’s never experienced this.” M’Benga looked at his tricorder. “There’s too much stimulus.”

“Well – “ One of the doctors in the room handed a PADD to M’Benga. “The Commander's brain is basically glowing."

"His mind is re-calibrating to enable telepathic functions." M'Benga announced.

“Poor hobgoblin doesn’t realize that he can’t feel anyone because they aren’t real.”

“He also can’t feel his planet, McCoy. At least he knew why in the real world.” M’Benga jibed back. “That can do a lot of psychological damage."

M’Benga was right. How would Spock handle the reality when he woke up and remembered everything?

“He’s so confused. Taking away his abilities, it’s a feature of the SIM that’s too cruel.”

“Other telepathic species have undergone the SIM, M’Benga.” Leonard added as a fact and as a way to comfort his co-worker. It was also a way to comfort himself.

“A Vulcan that was always told he wasn’t truly Vulcan has become everything he feared.”

Leonard cringed at M’Benga’s words. Everyone would need therapy after this.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any questions - concerns - bring them to moi!
> 
> ~X


	7. POST SIM - PART TWO

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More POST - SIM emotions and foreshadowing.  
> YAY!
> 
> So a fantastic reader compared my SIMs to the Zimbardo's Stanford prison experiment and the Milgram experiment.  
> I never thought of it like that until she mentioned it.  
> Thanks 'Nightshade sydneylover150 ' !!
> 
> Song: SOLACE - RUNAGROUND  
> Warning: Spock's brittle heart & Cynical views of the human race.
> 
> Sorry...
> 
> ~X

** POST SIM - PART TWO **

  

 

The buzzing of the holo-recorder flying around the room instigated memories of flashing lights. Whenever Spock blinked, the florescent lights in the room made him want to hide behind his chair for safety.    

 Unlike his previous theory, he received a grade of PASS – He was back in Starfleet. His worries should have subsided, but it was stubborn. It latched onto the border of his thoughts. It was irremovable.

He pinched the bridge of his nose and took in deep breaths. He needed to meditate. His equilibrium was off for too long. The string between the two worlds were starting to become too much to handle. A part of him wanted to touch Admiral Komack’s temple to reaffirm his current reality.

 It was absurd - It would not matter what he saw, as long as he saw … something.

 “I urge you to reconsider this contract, Commander Spock.”

No.

“My decision is final.” Spock let out a voice that he was internally surprised did not falter. He gripped his thigh under the table. Sitting still was becoming a harder task with each minute. “I would request more time to deliberate on this, because of the abnormal amount of fatigue I am experiencing – “

“Great.” The Admiral showed Spock a weak smile. “We will lend you as much time as you need.”

“However – “ Spock interjected. “It is not needed, nor will it ever be.”

He made up his mind. From the moment the contents within the contract were explained, he knew he would never touch that pen.

“Commander Spock – “

“I believe it is only Mr. Spock now.”

Admiral Komack had no qualms to hiding his emotion. Every feature on his face made it clear that he was both stunned and disappointed. Komack must have seen the SIM. He must know why Spock came to this decision.

The Admiral narrowed his eyes in an antagonizing manner. “What exactly do you hope will happen here?”

Right now, Spock hoped he would receive some water if not proper sustenance. “I will most likely resume my teaching position in the Academy.”

Just like his position on the Enterprise, teaching gave Spock peace. It gave Spock a sense of belonging in that he could benefit the minds of future officers. He was already considering the idea of creating a simulation program that prepared the officers for THE SIMULATION – mind training at its best.

“You didn’t FAIL.” Komack reiterated in a louder volume. “You won’t even consider a transfer?”

“I have no desire to serve on another ship” _I could never serve alongside another Captain._

As if Komack read Spock’s thoughts, his thick bows raised up. “You don’t seriously think that Captain Kirk will choose the same, do you?”

“Irrelevant.” Spock did not know if Jim was still asleep, or facing the same scenario he was currently stuck in. “My Captain’s decision will have no affect on mine’s.”

“He was promoted to Captain faster than anybody in recent history. He has a ship with a five-year mission pending. He has success climbing up his ass and you think – “

“I more than aware of all these points, Admiral Komack. I respectfully ask that you cease your attempts to make me retract my decision.”

Komack released a heavy sigh Spock wished he could, and placed both hands on the edge of the table. “Do you know what I find so funny?”

For the first time, Spock looked up at Komack. He knew the lights in the SIM sucked out all the light in his eyes. The result of Jim’s absence was having more of an affect than originally anticipated. He had to find a way to be alone.

“You acknowledge that you may never serve on a ship again.” Komack claimed.

Spock nodded in return.

“You’re willing to give up your rightfully earned title of Commander within minutes.”

Spock nodded again.

“And yet, you still refer to Captain Kirk as your Captain, even though he’s not anymore.”

His teeth bit down on his tongue to prevent himself from frowning and shutting his eyes. Komack tilted his head, taking in every detail of an exhausted Spock.

He wanted to yell.

He wanted to scream at the Admiral and at everyone that had every part of THE SIMULATION.

He should.

They stripped him of his abilities and placed him in a world where he was excluded, tortured – In a world where he experienced friendship, love … all for it to be taken away and burned.

 

“Mr. Spock, he won’t choose you.”

 

With that gut-wrenching statement, Spock was once again left alone to look at the taunting circling machinery – buzzing – buzzing – buzzing.

He meant what he said. Jim’s decision to remain on the Enterprise would not change his decision, but Spock knew that it would crush him. There is no reason for Jim to not sign the contract, except Spock wished with every part of him that he would be enough.

If Jim chose to remain on Terra then they could pursue a life together. A life that could have all the limits melted away. It would no longer be Chief Spock and Jim the council member, or Commander Spock and Captain Kirk.

It would be Spock and Jim. Bond mates.

 

If Jim chose to depart on the mission, then Spock would stay here regardless.

Spock could not imagine himself on the Enterprise, serving, being near, looking at Jim without … without being allowed to –

 

He placed a palm over his quivering mouth.

_He won’t choose you._

He once heard that the human brain could process rejection as physical pain.

 

_He won’t choose you._

Spock now knew that to be true.

. 

.

.

 

  


_Interview #1, Commander Spock -  
_

 

 

 

> _Admiral Archer: Hello again, Commander Spock – Is the food to your liking?  
>  _
> 
> _Commander Spock: Yes, thank you._
> 
> _Admiral Archer: If you ask me - You should have been able to wash, stretch your legs and eat way before now. _
> 
> _Before I begin the POST-SIM interview, I would like to mention that your actions in the SIM were admirable. You and I have seen multiple SIMs with disturbing outcomes, so this was a breath of fresh air._
> 
> _I was beginning to lose hope in my old age.  
>  _
> 
>  
> 
> _The reason on why it took over a year before you two could meet, was because our first objective was to observe how prone your minds could be to brainwashing. I have to ask … In all that time, you never hated humans, even though they were burning aliens of all kinds … even Vulcans?_
> 
> _Commander Spock: My previous readings of recorded Terran history already exposed me to how prone the human mind is to the displacement of blame. World War II is a common example of such behavior, just like the Nanking massacre during the Second Sino-Japanese War._
> 
> _I never understood the rational for displaying hundreds of thousand of human craniums in the Nyamta Genocidal Memorial for the Rwandan Genocide. I was told that it was so history could never be forgotten._
> 
> _It appeared to be useless in the end – it was repeated._
> 
>  
> 
> _Admiral Archer: Stop. _
> 
> _Stop right there._
> 
> _So you’re saying that we were prone to repeat these inhuman, heinous actions again?_
> 
> _Commander Spock: I perpetually reminded myself that every human could not be like this, Admiral Archer._
> 
> _Just enough to make a difference, and grow through the minds of the weak, led by a cynical authority figure. The murders during and post World War III of those with radiation poisoning is a more recent example._
> 
> _They were eliminated because they were considered impure. Murder was given a new name by one man._
> 
> _Murder became a purging, and thus became justified. You see, brainwashing is more effective with those in fear of the unknown.  
>  _
> 
> _Admiral Archer: Understood. _
> 
> _You never fought back unless as a means to defend yourself. As you hid from place to place, you never hated humans. Instead, you made a safe haven for some._
> 
> _Commander Spock: Groups, cults, and factions – they all grow from one’s need to belong. They did it. There was no reason for me to not do the same. _
> 
> _I only did what I thought was logical at the time._
> 
> _Admiral Archer: Except, you didn’t use logic – not all the time._
> 
> _Commander Spock: I estimated every scenario to the best of my ability, however I was taught to hope. I also learned to rely on my instincts – A tactic I wished to have learned prior to the SIM._
> 
> _Admiral Archer: I saw that Captain Kirk taught you most of these._
> 
> _Commander Spock: Anastasia and Markus as well._
> 
> _Admiral Archer: You never referred to them by last name._
> 
> _Commander Spock: If Warehouse 15 were a Starfleet ship, I would have. The setting was not a formal one, but there was a hierarchy of command. It was still organized, and that was a higher priority. _
> 
> _The situation we were in was a dire one, and everyone needed a sense of safety._
> 
> _Admiral Archer: You would do anything for them._
> 
> _Commander Spock : I did._
> 
> _Admiral Archer: Just like you would a crew._
> 
> _Commander Spock: Correct. _
> 
> _Admiral Archer: So why would you jeopardize that safety for a stranger? Kirk had no idea of your existence and yet you pursued him. _
> 
> _Commander Spock: Captain Kirk’s actions intrigued me. I was perplexed as to how someone survived alone in a world where no one could. He had clean clothing and memorized the layout of his _
> 
> _surroundings, which enabled him to escape from the light._
> 
> _He was quick and thorough – I believed him to be a possible beneficial member of the base._
> 
> _Admiral Archer: There were moments of doubt, but he was, wasn't he?_
> 
> _Commander Spock: He was. _
> 
> _Admiral Archer: Such as the times that you would second guess your demands, and consider his words instead - the words of a man you just met. _
> 
> _You would preform risky actions together._
> 
> _Commander Spock: You are referring to Karim’s rescue - _
> 
> _Admiral Archer:   A reasonable leader would have left the teenager. There would have been regret, but another option's too unpredictable. _
> 
> _What is so interesting to me is that you and Kirk went into Camp Salvatus with guns blazing – That is something you would not have done without his influence.  
>  _
> 
> _Commander Spock: By then my Captain and I have established a trust within each other. His suggestion was just an echo of the one I was already entertaining._
> 
> _Admiral Archer: An echo … I like that. _
> 
> _Commander Spock: …_
> 
> _Admiral Archer: Another positive point – this reckless, yet understandable decision was one you made sure you two did alone, including the council, without the help of anyone in the base._
> 
> _Commander Spock: The base was full of medical personnel, mothers, adolescence and technical operatives. Their lives could not be replaced, and therefore held more value than ours._
> 
> _Admiral Archer: Anastasia and Markus weren’t of value?_
> 
> _Commander Spock: They were trained._
> 
> _Admiral Archer: Kirk wasn’t._
> 
> _Commander Spock: My Captain developed an attachment to Karim. He would have come without my permission. _
> 
> _He also had knowledge of the Camp that was essential to the outcome of this mission._
> 
> _Admiral Archer: It was an away mission._
> 
> _Commander Spock: A successful one, Admiral Archer. _
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you hate me yet?  
> I'm going to go add 'Angst' to the tag ...*bye*!
> 
>  
> 
> ~X


	8. SIM - PART FOUR

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More SIM development. 
> 
> Song: FOOLS by Troye Sivan
> 
> NOTE: Camp Salvatus was clearly a place that had a religious foundation. There were rules. Sexual acts would be reported if the participants weren't married beforehand. Males and females were often separated. One could not express their sympathies for the aliens already on Earth when the invasion took place. There were limitations that Kirk obviously never agreed to, but kept quiet for matters of safety. His stay there was a sign of his desperation. 
> 
> Kirk's final straw was when Camp Salvatus used the Bible as an excuse to express their ruthless opinions and finally commit murder. They claimed to be followers of an all-loving entity, and yet they distorted the scripture for their purposes.
> 
> This is somewhat close to the terrorism we experience today across the world where a blind few use Islam as an excuse to murder, rape and instill fear.
> 
> Evil has a tendency to develop followers at an alarming rate. 
> 
> I truly believe that cults like these would most definitely form in a chaotic dystopian world. 
> 
> ~X

**SIM - PART FOUR**

 

_“Holy fuck, Kirk!” Urain’s yelped with surprise when Jim tapped her back. She cowered on her bed, clearly hiding something. She had to be._

_Urain was alone in the room, a room meant for over a dozen._

_“I would be careful with my words here. I should report you young lady.” He nudged Urain’s scalp with a chuckle, messing up her grey locks.  
_

_“Bite me.” She hid the picture she held close to her chest and tucked it under her flat, lifeless pillow._

_Jim eyebrows flew up. This was the closest he’s seen anything to nudity during his stay in Camp Salvatus. It was one of a naked woman with frizzy black curls, and the brightest blue eyes that Jim slightly envied. Her beauty radiated through her genuine smile while she leaned on the trunk of a tree, in the open wilderness. She looked like she was one with the Earth._

_The uneven surface of her legs and dimples were characteristics that she flaunted, crossing them to hide what was in between. She was hugging the trunk of the tree with her thick, toned arms. Her brown nipples were puckered and her gaze could look through Jim.  
_

_There was no shame, only the expression of vanity._

_“I don’t know if this is porn, or just downright art.”_

_Urain chuckled; showing her tea stained teeth and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “It’s not what you think – This was uhhh …” Her wrinkles deepened.  
_

_“C’mon, out with it.” Jim urged her, while taking up her space just for the sake of being invasive and curious. Urain was one of the only people he got along with. Her presence reminded him that maybe not everyone left was warped into a muddled mosaic._

_She sucked in her thin lips. It turned into a deep lip-less frown. “I would rather not say actually.”_

_“Is it your girlfriend?” He blurted out, then instantly covered his mouth to look around. There was no one around.  
_

_“So you just knew I was gay all along …” She rolled her eyes. There should have been fear plastered on her face, but it was only them in the room._

_She trusted Jim._

_“I think the lack of clothes gave it away, but hey – you could have swung both ways. I never assumed.”_

_“Right …” She sighed and gave Jim one long look._

_The moment was dragging too long, like she was trying to come up with a grand decision. Jim did as Jim does and broke it with a joke._

_“So do you normally take pictures of your girlfriends like one of your French girls?”_

_Her nose scrunched up and a dimple formed on her cheek. “The nudity was more of a … cultural thing, Kirk.” She said as if Jim was a child who needed a history lesson._

_“Let me get into that culture.”_

_“Trust me, you couldn’t.” She teased. “You could never be on my level.”_

_“Ouch.” Jim acted like he was punched in the chest, which resulted in Urain actually hitting him._

_“Whatever! Anyways, she was more than that.” Urain covered her mouth to minimize her laugh. “She was my wife.”_

_The past tense didn’t go unnoticed. Jim sat further on the bed, crossing his legs to get closer to her._

_The shift in the atmosphere was quick, and for once, it wasn’t because of the shitty ventilation system underground. Her smile slowly went away, a wet coating started to develop on her eyes._

_Jim tried to distract her by bringing up the great memories. It was a tactic he saw work on several occasions. “When was this taken?” He pointed to the picture when Urain took it back out.  
_

_“You wouldn’t believe me …”_

_“Try me.” He rolled his shoulders, acting like he was preparing for a challenge.  
_

_She looked into the picture with the hardest gaze; it was as if Urain believed she could go back to the moment permanently. “This was taken on our wedding.”_

_Jim’s mouth formed an ‘O’ – his expression showing every sign that he wasn’t ready for that answer. “Wow.”_

_“We were connected in so many ways – we were swimming in each other’s head. I never had to explain myself. We could just look at each other, knowing that there was never a need to explain. There was a bridge between us and it shined – it shined in all these colors, half of them I can’t still possibly name.”_

_“You make it sound so literal.”_

_“To us, that bridge was as real as the air we breathed. The second we connected, all the walls we created in our lives just melted away.”_

_“Doesn’t that get invasive? Giving yourself to someone like that, knowing that there’s no room to be you.”_

_“I was truly me because of her. I was – “ Her trip down memory lane paused. She clutched at the picture, putting new wrinkles on it and deeply breathed in. “I feel so naked now.”_

_“Urain – “_

_“She burned, Kirk. She … “ Her mouth started to quiver. “She burned so much, and I couldn’t do anything about it. I was stuck!”_

_“The lights are incredibly fast. You couldn’t have – “_

_“You don’t get it … “_

_“Just because you made it and she didn’t, doesn’t mean it was your fault, Urain.”_

_“I should have burned with her.” She clenched her teeth aggressively. “It was so painful, she couldn’t even scream. I felt her excruciating agony, and I still let her go through it alone.”_

_“Urain, you couldn't have possibly known that.” Jim gulped. “Some say it doesn’t hurt to burn. People smile sometimes. I’ve seen it.”_

_“Oh Kirk … I wished she burned like that.” She shook her head. “If only she burned like that – “_

_Jim’s jaw went down so he could ask her exactly what she meant, but the words never came out. His mind kept screaming ‘What?'_

_She put her hand up and rubbed her eyes. “I’m going to go to bed now, and if you are my friend, you’ll stop asking more questions.”_

_Urain shut him down. "You know I’m here for you, right?”_

_She nodded.” I know.”_

_Jim wasn’t confident in her answer._

 

**.**

**.**

**.**

 

 

Jim had a gun on each side of his face, and he wasn’t in the least bit fazed. What was worse was that they were his own guns too.

Since he wasn’t allowed to move, sit next to Spock or care for him, Jim could only observe the man he came to know. He remained seated in his prison corner with one leg over the other and arms crossed. Worst-case scenario, Jim would be shot – hopefully it would be in the head.

At least Bud was in the other room - As long as they didn’t _judge_ him in the morning.

Hopefully, Spock would wake up, and explain everything … and preferably soon.

In the last hour, he had time to deliberate on his shocking exchange of something that he could only call a supernatural, unexplainable element, as pleasant as it was.

Something must have been different about Jim, because if Spock was a being with telepathic abilities, especially touch telepathy, then he wouldn’t have shook Jim’s hand.

Spock came off as an intelligent man, and that was one stupid thing to do.

He knew from Urain that no matter how well someone hid his or her physiology – It would always be exposed.

He didn’t know it then when Urain was explaining the execution of her wife – He only thought of the woman as another casualty in the invasion. He couldn’t have been more wrong.

The woman in the picture was burned at the stake.

 

Jim looked at Spock from thick eyebrow to leather shoes. Spock’s jacket was removed and he was plastered on the bed in a thin button up grey shirt. He had theories – After all, Spock’s appearance reduced his options significantly.

 

The guests in his home took the liberty to splash more water on their leader’s face, and this time, Spock’s eyelids responded.

 

Jim felt a surge of relief. For a second, he wanted to jump out of his seat and place that face between his palms. Maybe shake Spock’s head a bit, and move those wet strands of shiny hair and check Spock’s forehead as well.

His nurturing instincts didn’t shock him at all. They were just a result of guilt. Jim felt like it was his fault. Whatever happened between them was something that should have never occurred, no matter how euphoric and blissful he felt.

He enjoyed this element while Spock was probably in pain.

Damn it.

Spock fidgeted and then a rugged groan echoed in Jim’s room.

 

“Fucking finally!” Markus exhaled, his relief evident.

Anastasia lowered her gun, and exhaled.

Markus held onto Spock’s elbow to help the man sit up on Jim’s now wet bed.

 

“Are you okay?” Jim uttered.

 

Markus glared at him, and Jim raised his hands in a mock surrender.

Spock nodded to Markus, clearly expressing his thanks, and then gazed towards Markus’ gun. He then looked at Anastasia down to her gun as well. A gun that was pointed at Jim.

Jim felt warmth when Spock’s wide eyes were finally directed towards him. By Spock's eye bags, he could see that Spock needed more sleep and soon.

He then flicked his gaze to the gun, trying to send across the message that the weapons were for him.

 

Instead of Spock explaining his condition or basic well being, Spock explained that Jim had not harmed him.

“I failed to set up my defenses. His touch resulted in unexpected circumstances. His actions were not deliberate so please, lower your guns.” Spock had this thing for making demands sound like requests.

 

It was in that moment that the guns faced somewhere else besides Jim’s contorted face.

 

Jim’s tired hands fell down as he took in one big breath. With Spock’s request, Anastasia and Markus left the two alone in the room once again. There were rebuttals, and hesitation, but they ultimately decided to leave.

 

The two guests would have killed him if Spock never woke up. Except in his twisted mind, he acknowledged that it was terrifying and endearing at the same time.

“Their aggression is something that you should not fear. They only use it for purposes they deem proper.” Spock’s tone was low and husky.

Anastasia and Markus’ rants and threats were kind of a breath of fresh air. It was the epitome of loyalty, and not just for their leader, but also towards a being the world blamed for its demise.

 

“I can understand that.” He answered.

 

Spock’s shoulders slumped down. “Nevertheless, I apologize on their behalf. We have taken temporary solace in your home and we have made you hostage in exchange.”

 

Did Spock forget that he saved Jim’s life?

 

Jim then waved his hand. ”No need. They were just looking out for you. Are you okay though? You took quite a fall back there.”

 

“I am better.” Spock nodded. The man was avoiding eye contact with Jim entirely, and Jim taunted him by refusing to look away.

 

When Spock picked a new corner to look at, Jim followed, both pares of eyes with a goal in mind - avoidance and determination. Spock would be the one to break before him, and he knew it.

He tilted his head once again, forcing Spock to finally acknowledge him.

“You’re a lucky one.” Jim settled.

This sparked Spock out of his stupor. “How so?”

Jim explained. “I had a lot to think about while I had two guns to my face. Your appearance is a deceiving one, but it’s also your defense.”

“I also understand your reluctance to reveal your specie, considering what has taken place on Terra.”

Jim shouldn’t have been as shocked as he was. Spock really thought he wasn’t human.

“I said I was human. You know … the Homo sapien?”

Spock looked at his palm with a doubtful frown. Jim analyzed his own palm in response.

“I am as well.” Spock stated. “However, that would depend on your definition.”

 

Jim shifted in his seat. “I think every relationship should start with honesty, Spock.”

“Honesty is an obligation within my base, Jim. I hold its importance of high value.”

“So as its leader, shouldn’t you follow those guidelines? Or are you not one to lead by example?” Jim was sizing him up. He needed to know more about this man before leaving his wrecked canoe, jumping into the freezing sea, and waiting for the cruise ship to retrieve him. “You talk about mental defenses to your friends – So clearly you’re not hiding.”

“Hiding – Hiding is something I could never cease in the outside world. It would never allow such a thing, Jim. I am what the people have called an abomination – a result of blasphemous actions.”

 

Urain was called an abomination and she was …

 

“You’re …”

“To answer your question, Jim – I am human.” Spock stated with a smooth voice, stern and certain. “I am also Vulcan.”

 

A Vulcan.

 

Jim narrowed his eyes and examined the man in front of him again. There was something Vulcans had that was obvious. Spock never bled, so Jim only had one option.

He stood up from the chair, his ass numb from the prolonged position. He stepped forward to Spock, who was inching back on the bed. Spock was giving them space as Jim sat next to Spock on the bed, the cold wall on his back.

“Everyone knows?”

“Of course.”

“Are there a lot of aliens there? Is your base some safe haven?”

Spock was once again fixated on his palm. “It is place of safety, however I am the only one with a different physiology.”

Jim looked at Spock’s palm and put his hand up, letting it stay up there, preventing further movement.

Spock was the most interesting person Jim met in this rugged world … and he was alone. “You can’t be …”

“Unfortunately, it is – This was why I questioned your physiology after our brief contact.”

“I’m still not lying.”

“Then I have no choice then to believe you.” Spock looked almost disappointed.

“Spock, you looked shocked. For a telepathic being, you seemed like it was an unexpected invasion. What happened to your defenses?”

Spock shook his head. “My defenses were never placed.”

“So why?”

“There was no need to have them placed. I was under the belief that my abilities were lost.”

“You can’t lose something like that … Then what happens when you touch the two outside that door?

“Nothing.” Spock frowned. “I feel nothing.”

Jim’s curiosity got the best of him. “And what did you feel with me?”

 

Spock narrowed his eyes at the door, not looking at Jim. “Can you explain your experience first? Did I hurt you?”

 

“Pffft, it was more of shock then pain.”

“You appeared to be in pain – “

“Oh. Well that was for another reason.” Jim scratched the back of his neck. “The pain came from the disconnection.” It was the best way he could word it.

“You said – "

  
“No!” Jim interrupted, hoping Spock wouldn’t get the wrong idea. “It wasn’t a physical pain, but an emotional one. I was saddened by the disconnection.”

“I see …”

Jim sighed. “I know that sounds foolish.”

“There is nothing foolish from the interpretations of your emotions. Only you could analyze them properly, therefore there is no right or wrong.”

“What’s your analyses then?” Jim crossed his legs. “Did I hurt you?”

“The hurt only occurred during the separation.”

“Oh.”

 

“My sentiment exactly.”

 

Jim gathered the courage to gaze at Spock. The Vulcan’s hair had endless layers ending at Spock’s chin. It was well styled and obviously well kept. Jim tilted his head and put his hand between their faces, pointing his fingers to Spock’s face.

There was only one more thing to see.

 

“Can I?”

**.**

**.**

**.**

 

Spock sat in a ninety-degree angle and his muscles were tense from the moment Jim sat on the bed, right next to him to the moment Jim placed his palm over his, just enough air to taunt and tease him.

There was a sharp exhale settling in his throat, and it threatened to escape his mouth. The strange man he came to know as Jim just described that the pain was derived from the connection’s sudden ending. .

He was fearful that he injured Jim, but instead, the human expressed his possible desire to repeat …..

No – that would be wishful thinking. He could not take advantage of Jim. That would be immoral, unethical … beautiful, home, euphorically sensational.

Spock was confused so many times since the invasion. He was confused why the world turned on him – Why the Federation disappeared – Why the government failed – Why Federation species were being burned – Why his mind was silent – Why his planet’s life force was unresponsive – He never said ‘Why’ so many times in his life than in the last year.

He was once again confused when this man was saying all the right things. He needed clarification. “You said – “

  
“No!” Jim interrupted animatedly. “It wasn’t a physical pain, but an emotional one. I was saddened by the disconnection.”

Spock closed his eyes. It was another answer he could not believe. An answer that summoned his thoughts - all pleasant and inappropriate. “I see …”

“I know that sounds foolish."

Foolish was not the word.

Foolish should have been applied to his rapidly beating heart.

“There is nothing foolish from the interpretations of your emotions. Only you could analyze them properly, therefore there is no right or wrong.”

“What’s your analyses then? Did I hurt you?”

Spock would have preferred to blame his emotions as a response to a withdrawal. In the end, it was just an excuse. He had to give Jim honesty. “The hurt only occurred during the separation.”

 

Jim’s face showed signs of surprise. “Oh.”

 

“My sentiment exactly.”

 

Unexpectedly, Jim shifted closer in a space Spock assumed he could not have gotten closer. “Can I?”

 

Spock did not comprehend Jim’s request until he looked at Jim’s hand next to the side of his face. Those blue orbs switched from his cheekbones to his over-grown hair. Jim wanted to see.

Nobody saw them.

Spock’s home was a safe-haven, however it was not a place to flaunt the obvious. Jim wanted to see the part of him that he hid away for over a year.

Against his logic, he obliged.

 

Fingers never touched his skin, but shivers swam through his body when he felt his hair follicles shifting behind his ear. The heat from the hand floated to his skin, and Spock’s breath hitched.

The moment was a sample of so much more.

Jim’s eyes preformed this act that Spock could declare that they were smiling.

“Well, now these are …” Jim paused.

 

Spock braced himself for the words to come.

 

Jim removed his hand, and Spock leaned into the retracting hand. He forced himself back, and Jim fully smiled. He felt heat. It was not the warmth that presented itself when he was Jim, but it was a superficial heat … and it was on his face.

He did not want to imagine how he looked like.

 

“They’re pretty fucking sexy.”

 

Spock’s twitched just when Jim broke into laughter. He felt Jim leave the bed, and saw him open the cupboard. He could see Jim’s shoulders still dancing up and down as Jim’s laughter started to die down.

Sexy?

“You think my ears attractive?” Spock forced himself to ask, and the voice came out husky. He should have cleared his throat.

 

Jim turned around with a blanket and motioned for him to get off the bed instead of answering. Spock lifted his body off the bed. He stood at the side as he watched Jim place the blanket on the top of the water stained sheets.

The bed shook when Jim practically jumped on after. Spock saw Jim turn around and pat the empty space next to him. The indication was clear.

Jim desired to share the bed for the night when Spock originally planned to sleep in the living room with his council members. He should walk out.

It was then that Jim rested his body on his elbow. “Spock, I find a lot of things attractive about you. I have eyes.”

I have eyes? Jim was stating what he observed as an obvious fact.

“Doesn’t mean I’ll molest you.” Jim grinned. “Now get on here. I’m assuming we leave on sunrise when the coast is clear. Right?”

Spock stepped slowly towards the bed. He was then yanked on the bed from the laughing man, and Spock lay on his back, his eyes facing the dot-patterned ceiling.

 

“That was unnecessary.”

 

“You looked so scared. Never received a compliment before?” Jim’s voice trailed off from the exhaustion. His eyes glazed over, uncomprehending.

The tug in Spock’s stomach was hard to ignore. “I have.” He settled.

“Just not so blatantly?”

The comments towards his appearance were always hidden under humor, metaphors and sarcasm. “No.”

“Well this is a night of firsts, isn’t it?” Jim put both hands behind his head, completely relaxed in the position they were in.

“Indeed.” Spock responded, trying to hide the feeling developing in his gut.

 

“Great – now please stop with the pouting.”

 

Spock felt no offense, but reacted defensively regardless. “I do not pout.”

A low laugh vibrated through Jim’s throat. “You do.”

“That is a matter of perspective.”

“I like to think my perspective solid and reliable.”

“An opinionated conclusion.” Spock retorted.

Jim did not miss a beat. “An opinionated fact.”

 

Spock nudged his head up. “Jim.” He warned.

“Spock.” Jim stated in the same tone mockingly.

 

They locked eyes again, and the charge between them returned.

 

Spock quickly looked back at the ceiling and sighed. “Stubborn.”

“Authoritative.”

He lifted a brow, and he said the first thing that came to mind. “Competitive.”

“Domineering.” Jim’s response was a quick one.

“Reckless.”

“Argumentative.” The human expressed with a smirk.

“Opinionated.”

 

“Sexy.”

 

Spock was ready with a response, and before he could word it out in this game they have developed, he processed Jim’s rebuttal. Spock turned around to the middle of the bed where Jim was already facing him with his head on his hand. The developing growth of hair on Jim’s face outlined the pink lips and Spock couldn’t stop staring.

 

“Eccentric.”

 

Those lips separated into a genuine smile. “Now you’re just going to get me hot and bothered.”

“Are you naturally flirtatious in your behavior?”

“Only to you.” Jim quickly blinked one eye, and action Markus performed perpetually. “It only takes one word, and I’ll stop.”

Spock decided to close his eyes instead of speaking. He actually found the exchange rather refreshing.

The silence between them was a comfortable one - More comfortable than the silence from his own quarters.

**.**

**.**

**.**

 

The light - the real coating of soft, non-corrosive light, shined on everyone. Jim's apartment remained the same. He just held onto a couple of small supplies. His pills, drinks, and tape were necessary.

“My friend comes with me.”

Spock stopped putting his coat on midway. “Where might this survivor be?”

“You already saw him.”

“I saw him …? ” Spock eyes scanned the room and stopped at the human shaped plastic compartment. “Are you referring to the mannequin?” Spock asked for clarification.

“You really do belong in a loony bin.” Markus adjusted the gun on his hip.

“His name is Bud.” Jim corrected.

When Anastasia left the room, her giggles didn’t go unheard.

“Bud.” Spock tested the name out on his tongue.

Jim lightly chuckled at Spock's clear confusion.

“Good.”

 

**.**

**.**

**.**   


 

“What is going on?” Leonard asked himself in the room full of white coats. It was rhetorical because it was clear as day, and yet he needed answers to anchor his sanity.

 

He walked to Jim’s body, not caring for the shocked gasps from everyone else and leaned down close to Jim’s pale face.

“What are you doing, kid?” He whispered to Jim. “Everyone is watching, dammit!”

The Admirals and SIM Ops must be having a dandy time.

 

He turned back to watch a confused M’Benga who remained glued to the screen. “He called the Commander ‘Sexy’… and I think he liked it.” He said after a moment. “Oh my …”

 

Leonard put his palm on his face. He didn’t sign up for this. The way those two looked at each other was something that was too hard to ignore.

The way they locked eyes was a stronger, more open expression than the way they already did PRE-SIM. Jim’s attraction to Spock was evident, and Spock was just as interested … if not more honestly.

The only difference was that they now had every opportunity to do and say things they couldn’t possibly entertain before. They were still held by duty, but they could create the rules. They weren’t stuck in a tight bottle.

There was more freedom.

 

This made Leonard question so many things.

 

“He’s blushing, McCoy.” M’Benga had his hand placed under his chin, probably to keep it from falling. M'Benga turned to Spock's body with shock.

 

Leonard did not sign up to get a front row seat to what could be the best thing and worst thing for his friends.

 

During Jim’s early recovery, Spock’s visits were continuous – the three of them made home in Jim’s apartment. They even had the access codes. The walls of formality between Jim and Leonard never existed, but for Spock to join in was a sight to behold. The Vulcan’s adaptation was a transformation that Leonard felt a need to glimpse more into.

 

And the SIM was that glimpse.

 

“Does this mean they were already a … thing, Dr. McCoy?” A physician asked Leonard with a bunch of the other ones behind him.

“Absolutely not.” He said despite his beliefs. If there were ever relations between Jim and Spock, would Jim have ever told him?

 

“They’re sleeping on the same bed."

“Two males sleeping on one bed in an apocalypse doesn't have to mean they’re messin’ around.”

“Dr. McCoy…” The one he knew as Dr. Kim walked to him and shook her head. “Excuse my language, but they’re basically eye-fucking each other.”

 

Leonard shut his mouth and breathed in deep. “Whatever happens in this SIM doesn’t mean anything happened before. Just remember that.”

 

No one moved when the machines rang again. They knew there was no issue. The ringing of the machines were the same as the ones of cupid’s arrow slinging to its target.

And Leonard could see that the target had been reached.

 

**.**

**.**

**.**   


 

Admiral Archer paused the SIM in a room that went dead quiet. The cold air circulated between the adults in pristine uniforms. One could hear a pin drop in the room.  

 

“Did I see Commander Spock get … flustered?” Komack said the first words in a room with swimming thoughts, none performing a full sentence.

“I highly doubt this will progress.” Nensi added. “This is just Kirk’s humorous behavior.”

The counselor for this SIM was a Vulcan by the name of Viik, a Starfleet officer. She unfolded her hands. “Captain Kirk is the only authentic part in this fabricated world. Although Commander Spock may not know the difference, his mind and body did.” She placed her PADD on the table and showed them the picture of Spock’s brain activity.

“There were other officers who experienced the same, Viik” Komack leaned back in his seat with a scoff.

“What are you trying to say?” Nensi tapped his part of the table with his finger.

“To express this in terms a human can decipher, such brain activity indicates that the connection between them was a pleasant one, they sampled their compatibility.“ She placed the PADD back down. “Commander Spock may endeavor to pursue this relationship. Captain Kirk certainly is not going to prevent it."

“I agree.” Lui nodded her head.

“We know that these two will pass the SIM.” Archer groaned. “I fear that we are unnecessary tampering with an impeccable team’s dynamic.”

 

“Hardly impeccable.” Komack retorted.

 

“Darn right impeccable!” They barked back in unison.

 

Nensi tsked, “However, it is clear that they fraternized prior to THE SIMULATION.”

Archer tuned to him. “What makes you say that?”

“You can’t be that blind. I don’t use the word ‘chemistry’ loosely, but I think that’s what the kids call it nowadays.”

 

“There aren’t rules in this world. They can do whatever they damn well please.” Lui added.

“And if they choose to proceed POST-SIM?” Komack asked.

“We don’t know that.”

 

“Exactly – we won’t. We could end this, but they haven’t yet completed all the objectives. The worst is yet to come, and we need the data – the utmost confidence.” Nensi concluded. “Nothing is permanent, right Viik?”

 

Counselor Viik nodded. “From the moment Commander Spock is relieved from stasis, his mind should retract all tampering from within the SIM.”

“At least we won’t have to worry about that.”

“Honestly, anything is better than what took place with the Commanding team of USS Xīwàng.”

They all hummed in agreement.

“Their separation was inevitable.” Archer sighed. “They’ll probably never be in the same room again.”

  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Love you all !
> 
> NOTE: Urain was half-Betazoid and in Betazoid tradition, weddings were held in the nude. 
> 
> ~X


	9. SIM - PART FIVE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm planning for other antagonists, but I guess the Admirals just became the top of the list - and I highly doubt they'll be knocked down when the other ones present themselves.  
> The hate is real.
> 
> SONG: Castle by Halsey
> 
> xD
> 
> ~X

**SIM - PART FIVE **

 

 

There were kids, women and men just lying out on the grass fields, looking up at the temporary clear sky.

Jim knew by the hue of the sky that they all wouldn’t have much time left.

 

His instincts yanked at his reflexes, urging Jim to yell at all of them to rush inside – seek safety from the impending danger, but he ended up restraining himself.

There was no harm - not right now.

 

He learned to appreciate the simple things. When terror came out every night, one had to enjoy the given time of peace. These people took advantage of the fresh, clean air and the short-term abandonment of the burning false lights.

Jim also saw colors. It shined through the scenery and the variations of fabric in their clothing. He arrived to a base where there was an expression of individuality, of openness. In Camp Salvatus, Jim had a hard time differentiating people, as small as they were. Here – the people wore their feelings on their chest.

 

He stopped in his steps and breathed in the air.

_This can't be real._

_Too good to be true._

Jim learned that the hard way, except every part of his brain yelled at him, telling him that in a world filled with fear, with fire, no one showed it.

 

In the middle of his rambling thoughts, a bunch of yelling shot through his eardrums, and he immediately turned towards the unexpected sounds. What he saw only made him more confident in his decision. Two kids, a young boy and girl were throwing dice, completely immersed in the game. in Camp Salvatus, a member would think their activity as gambling.

Jim ended up snorting to prevent his laugh.

 

The argument wasn’t serious – if anything, it was kind of cute.

 

“You cheated!” The boy whined, jumping from his spot on the grass, pointing at the dice in between him and his companion.

 The girl crossed her arms and locked air into her puffy cheeks. “How do you cheat in dice?”

 “I don’t know, but you did. I swear it!” The boy pointed at the six dots like they would come alive before him, laughing at his failure.

The girl blew a blonde strand away from her face. “Fine. I cheated.”

“I knew it!” The kid clapped with newfound accomplishment. “How did you do it?”

“I asked the lights to do it for me. You see … they do whatever I want, when I want.” She smirked., leaning to his face with a dark whisper. “I’ll ask them to get you next.”

 

The boy’s caramel skin instantly lost its saturation. He then ran to his mother a few feet away, whining that the lights were after him.

The cute factor diminished.

 

Jim tsked as he watched the altercation. “That was cruel.”

“Indeed.” Spock said as he walked to Jim’s side, then yelled out her name, using his index finger to indicate that she should come here.

 

She froze, looked at her dice, then decided to run to them. She quizzically looked at Jim, and then turned to Spock forgetting him entirely.

 

“In a time when safety is guaranteed, Kara – you have decided to instill fear in Kumar, less than two hours of the lights’ arrival. Why?”

 

“He was being mean to me, Chief!”

 

“You could have handled the matter differently. You are not aware of Kumar’s experiences prior to his family’s entry to the base." Spock said. "Just because you can find humor in certain things, does not guarantee that the other party has similar beliefs.”

 

Kara shut her mouth and clasped her hands behind her back.

 

“Our home does not only provide protection. All occupants should never feel at risk during lockdown, and you have just removed that feeling from Kumar.”

 

“I’m sorry.” She mumbled.

 

Spock’s shoulders went down and he leaned down on one knee, carefully looking at the girl. “There is no use in apologies when directed towards me.” Spock added. “You will go to Kumar and retract you statement. I also expect to see you tomorrow morning at 0600 with the B shift.”

 

“I’m in the A shift.”

 

“And you will remain there as well.”

 

She whined at him. “That’s more work.”

 

“I am aware.” Spock said, not in the least bit influenced by Kara’s frown. “Now, I can add more or – “

 

Kara didn’t give him a chance to finish. "I’ll be with B shift tomorrow, Chief.”

 

Spock nodded his head before standing up again. “Good.”

 

She took a couple steps back and ran towards a crying Kumar and his distraught mom.

 

Jim was slightly in awe.

Spock turned to him with a hint of a frown. "That was unpleasant."

Jim nodded.

 

Spock was stern and authoritative, but unlike the leader at Camp Salvatus, there was a point to it.

Spock could have just walked away and brought Jim inside, but he took the time to rectify something he perceived as wrong.

 Jim could see that Spock didn't get off on reprimanding someone, especially someone so young. 

Spock cared. He was their leader, but they were his people too.

 

“Kumar witnessed the lights invade his city.” Spock informed Jim. “Him and his mother were the only survivors and that is only because they hid in the basement with – “

 

Jim raised a hand. “Spock, I get it.”

 

“We have limits here, Jim. Jesting about the lights is one of them.”

 

“Hey, if you didn’t do something about it – she could have done it again.”

 

Spock took a moment, and then signaled that they had to move forward. There were two huge metal doors, and with a sound that could have come from Gabriel’s horn, it opened.

 

Shivers went down Jim’s spine.

 

The second Jim entered the base, he was met with another metal door. In the rectangular space, he noticed the stash of weapons that ranged from small pistols, firearms and phasers that had coatings of dust on the surface. Some were properly hung while some were aligned on the wooden shelves.

 

A bald, built man growled when Jim inched closer to the corner of perfectly arranged weapons.

 

“I’m not touching anything.” Jim explained in a way that sounded more like a defense.

 

“No weapons past this point.” Uncharacteristically, the man’s voice was softer than Jim expected.

 

Jim shrugged and flipped the fabric inside his pocket out, flapping the material. He rolled up his shirt to mid-abdomen, slowly turned around, then rolled up the bottom of his pants to reveal his naked ankles.

 

“His weapons are with us, Clayton.” Spock announced to the unimpressed door guard.

 

Clayton stepped back with a nod and hum.

 

Jim would miss his guns. He wasn’t allowed to touch them since his seizure. “For a safe base, and the fact that I’m the only survivor you’ve seen in months – why do you have an arsenal worthy of an army?”

 

“We do not take our safety for granted, hence why we keep our weapons in close, protected proximity. “ Spock explained. “There could be others who want what we have worked endlessly to achieve. These are desperate times. I cannot expect everyone to act rationally.”

 

The lights flickered again, just as when Jim and Spock entered a couple minutes before. Instead of the door behind them opening, it was the one behind Clayton. What popped out after was a teenager that Jim noticed was a couple inches shorter than him.

 

The teenager’s tanned skin and hair the same shade as Spock’s, practically avoided everyone and jumped in Jim’s space.

“Welcome to Warehouse 15, you crazy-ass energy drinking nut!”

 

The teenager was a skinny one. It didn’t come across as a sign of malnutrition, but as a natural body figure. The glowing smile plastered on the young man’s face was a clear sign that health was of no issue.

“I’ve been watching you, and hot damn you can run!"

 

Jim smiled with gritted teeth. “So I’ve been told.”

 

The kid was dressed in a bright red shirt and denim jeans. Jim could only think ‘Superman’ when he looked at the hand that presented itself in front of him.

 

“They call me big-brother!”

 

“Big brother?”

 

The kid's eyes glistened with an animated expression. “Yea – cause I see everything, man.”

 

Spock walked passed Jim and up to the elated teenager. “His birth name is Karim.” Spock then pressed a bag to the shorter person, and Karim hissed an ‘oomf’ before moping at the bag like it ruined his party. “I believe you declared the responsibility of arranging our new occupant’s room?”

 

“On it, Chief.” Karim stepped back with his hyper behavior slightly toned down. “See you soon, ken doll."

 

Jim looked at Spock with wide eyes, and the man was not in the least bit surprised in the kid’s behavior and language.

 

“The name’s Jim.”

Against his better judgment, something he was doing a lot of lately, Jim decided to start anew.

People would know and call him by his name.

 

“Jim’s short and lame.” Karim moped again.

 

Jim snorted. Karim was a short name too. “It’s short for James.”

 

“Better.” Karim nodded in approval. “See ya later, James!” He then turned around and pressed the black square button attached to the wall. The lights covered everyone in an eye-catching red once more.

 

The teenager skipped away and into the hallway Jim could now see in better detail. Jim scouted the Warehouse and it mainly consisted of metal. He squinted from the flashing lights.

 

“Alarm system – I like that.” Salvatus didn’t have an alarm system. "A bit annoying, but I'll deal."

 

Markus and Anastasia strolled in, tossed their weapons, stretching their limbs.

 

"They notify our Security room of door activity and possible breaches.” Spock informed while adjusting his coat.

 

“Have you ever had any breaches before?”

 

Spock shook his head for a ‘no’

 

“Never had, and never will.” Anastasia said, picking up the mannequin with a distasteful look, as she walked between them. “Maybe Bud here could be our alien light scarecrow. Completely breach proof.”

 

The image of Bud on fire forced Jim to shake it out of his head. “He would burn!”

 

“News flash!” Markus pursed his lips. “The lights only burn flesh.”

 

Anastasia followed Karim’s direction after huffing a low “Whatever.”

 

“Incorrect again, Markus.” Spock responded.

 

Markus rolled his eyes with a deep sigh. “Right … not animals, which I find as all kinds of weird.”

 

“A possible objective could be that the lights want to reserve Terra’s ecosystem.” Spock explained. “Our disappearance would not be as detrimental as the wildlife’s disappearance. The disappearance of insects alone could result in deteriorating – “

 

“Spock, I still hate bugs.” Markus laughed while giving Spock one big pat on the shoulder.

Jim covered his mouth when he saw Spock give his shoulder one long look before patting off the nonexistent dirt.

"Especially cockroaches.” Markus finished.

 

“Cockroaches have been around since the Carboniferous period.” Jim added with a chuckle. He remembered reading that interesting fact somewhere and decided to enlighten an annoyed ex-Marine for kicks. “I don’t think they’re going to disappear anytime soon.”

 

Spock flicked his gaze back to Jim. “An astute conjecture.”

 

Jim smiled back when in actuality, he was internally gushing. Approval never mattered to him.

 

This shouldn’t have – but it did.

 

Something he was getting use to. The familiarity and comfortable vibe should never have been so easy to achieve, not when everyone was pretty close to losing their brain.

 

“They still should have burned.” Markus said with a clenched jaw before moving ahead, down the hallway. He disappeared in a corner.

 

“Giving you a brief tour now would be amenable, considering that most of the occupants are currently outside, unless you are fatigued - then I can direct you to your room.”

 

Jim power walked forward, touching the walls as he strolled inside the tight space, leading to his new home. “I’ll sleep later.” He turned around. “Let’s see what you’ve created here.”

 

Spock followed behind. “It was a team effort, Jim.”

 

“Sounds like a team worth joining, Spock.” Jim’s smile hid his true worries. The synchronizing and programming of the lights always worried him. There had to be a point in all this. This event was called an invasion, and yet the lights only arrived in the night. They never lived here – never made Earth their home. It was always the ignorance of man to assume that all alien forms took on a humanoid form. Except, what could a being of light need with this planet? They could clearly live in space without a ship.

He shook his head and let it all go for now.

 

When Spock showed Jim the cafeteria, he saw people all over, eating, chatting and reading. The tables were circular and the people seemed to be in their own world. The food had bright tints to it – it was fresh.

_FRESH_

“Is that … fruit?”   Jim ran to the closest plate in his view.

 

The woman the plate was for, looked up from her book and scrunched her nose at him. “And you are …?”

 

“Hello ma’am – sorry to bother you, but can I have that strawberry?” He pointed to the fat piece of fruit with endless dimples.

 

“Uhh … sure – I guess.” She moved the plate closer to him, and Jim sat right next to her.

 

He couldn’t have stuffed the fruit faster into his mouth. It was a strawberry, a real earnest strawberry gushing its sweet fluids into his mouth.

 

He moaned with his eyes closed.

 

It was fucking orgasmic.

 

“I don’t recognize you – Are you the new guy the council were supposed to bring in yesterday?”

 

Jim nodded, refusing to open his mouth as the tasty chunks dissolved on his tongue and down his throat.

 

“The name's Jim.” He mumbled in a manner that sounded more like ‘danamesji’

 

“Jim?” She said, similar how one would talk to a kid.

 

He nodded again, and took the liberty to pick another strawberry, blatantly ignoring the crackers next to it. Jim couldn’t handle another grain related food … or anything of the kind.

 

“Nice to meet you, Jim.” She rested her head on her palm, observing him.

 

Jim’s view was suddenly clouded by a shadow. A weight settled in the front of them. He looked ahead to see Spock.

 

Not just Spock, but also a Spock with a plate full of cantaloupe slices, kiwis, strawberries and tomatoes in front of him.

 

“Hello, Katherine.”

 

“Hey, Chief.”

 

Jim didn’t care for their conversation. “We’re getting married.” He announced with red-tinted teeth as he grabbed the plate full of delicacies.

 

He would question the lights’ ultimate goal later. Right now, he would not deny himself the beautiful and simple things.

 

Things like fruit.

 

And probably things like Spock.

 

Katherine broke into laughter “You got yourself a good one, Chief.”

 

He stuffed and stuffed his face, knowing Spock was looking right at him from the corner of his eye.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~X


	10. SIM - PART SIX

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More SIM action!
> 
> Welcome to Warehouse 15.
> 
> Some are welcoming to Kirk – some are not.
> 
> Song: All I Want – Echos. (Yes, it's spelled like that.)
> 
> ~X

  **SIM - PART SIX **

 

  
 

 

"Yep – they're pretty much doing it like rabbits."

"They didn't seem like a couple - "

"Please." Karim kicked a leg up and settled further into his bed, leaning on the wall with a mischievous grin plastered on his youthful face. "They were on a mission getting your crazy ass. I highly doubt they were holding hands and smooching on each other's greasy faces."

True. "Okay, I can see it now."

"Hopefully not in vivid detail." Karim laughed with his mouth full of crackers. "Anastasia's a crazy one. She probably tops."

Jim covered his face in laughter, and fell back on his bed. His laugh blended with that of his roommate, and the two coughed along with their ugly laughs and snorts. Momentarily, he thought that Karim would choke when kid started to urgently pat his chest. Jim lifted his head up with his back still on the covers to observe Karim waving his hand, indicating that he wasn't choking on his food.

He crashed his head back down, feeling the growing stubble on his face. "I don't need my new roommate dying on my first night." Jim snorted "At least give me a week so I can prepare a defense, an escape or something – "

Karim tossed a cracker towards Jim's direction, causing the blond to catch it and throw it in his mouth, biting into it with a loud crunch.

"Rude." Karim nudged his head with rebellion. "And here I am, tolerating that freak show over there. He's staring at me, dude!" He pointed to the mannequin.

Bud approached Karim and flicked the kid's forehead. Jim blinked, only to see Bud staring off to nothingness. The mannequin never moved. Jim stated the mannequin's name in a way he knew Bud would be proud of.

"What kind of name is Bud, James? Seriously?!"

Jim shrugged. "Would you believe me if I told you he chose it?"

"No!"

"No?"

Karim threw another cracker. "No!"

"Leaving food on the ground invites cockroaches." Jim reprimanded.

Karim paid it no mind. "Anything to piss off Markus."

"He'll probably break out of his room even though we're on lockdown, just to kick your puny ass." Jim pointed to the energetic kid. "Anastasia might join just because you interrupted their rabbit action time."

Karim narrowed his eyes, challenging Jim. "You wouldn't …"

Jim dramatically paused before saying, "Watch me."

They stared at each other, and within a minute, Karim gave up and picked up the crackers on the floor with a groan.

. 

.

.

 

The silence initiated Jim's thoughts as he lay on his small bed. So far, he enjoyed this place. Spock showed him the restrooms after his insane behavior over actual edible, sweet food.

Afterwards, it was the gym. It was an empty space filled with equipment, most of them covered with rust but still functional. Nevertheless, it filled its purpose.

Beside the hanging punching bags, there were already a couple of teenagers and adults exercising inside, but what really caught Jim's attention was the yoga session. He looked like a light was slithering in his direction as he gaped at the people moving to soft tunes as if the world remained the same outside those metal doors.

Spock's mentality was that the base's main purpose was to instill protection for the occupants' survival. He didn't want them to forget that they were still alive. To live and to exist were separate aspects of an important cycle. The world was changing, and hope was minimal.

They had to make the best of it.

The more Spock talked, the more Jim listened and looked as the half-Vulcan explained the working shifts.

Enjoyment meant little compared to safety, however enjoyment was a bonus he would welcome with deprived open arms.

It excreted from the occupants' auras. As Jim explored his new home, he gazed in awe throughout it all.

 

* * *

 

_"Activities resume tomorrow morning, if you wish to … You are staring, Jim."_

_"I think I could hear you talk forever." Jim blurted out. A low confession meant for only his ears._

_Damn it, he couldn't take it back now._

_Spock blinked with slightly parted lips, halting in his steps. Jim found the whole action captivating. Did the others see such a raw expression from their leader?_

_"I could direct you to my living quarters to continue, however I cannot guarantee forever. We have responsibilities to fulfill."_

_Jim bit the insides of his cheeks and furrowed his brows with astonishment. "You flirt!"_

_"I am a quick learner, Jim."_

 

* * *

 

 

With mere minutes before lockdown, a swarm of people from outside walked in. None of them hesitated in bombarding Jim with questions. He already received a ton of stares so this was expected.

It seemed like word of him and those energy drinks spread fast. Jim was looked at like a complete idiot by some and a god to others.

 

* * *

 

_"Being alone must have made you insane."_

_"You ran from the lights? Like actually ran on foot? Hovercrafts couldn't get away when we still had 'em!"_

_"How are you not ashes?!"_

_"Sweet Jesus. You must be immune."_

_"Young boy, you didn't even grab water – you grabbed a poor excuse of a drink filled with tampered sugar."_

_"Hot damn, teach me how to do that!"_

_"That's so freakin' cool!"_

_"It's a good thing you're pretty. There isn't much in that head of yours, is there?"_

 

* * *

 

Jim was seconds from telling them that he was going to be cougar chow the next day, but Spock put his hands up, calming the crowd. Echoes of the title 'Chief' bounced from the walls. Spock's voice had an immediate effect. They stared at him, not in fear – something Jim was growing use to.

It was basic, well-earned respect between the leader and the people.

 

* * *

 

_The red lights blinked all over, and Spock clasped his hands behind his back. "Until next time."_

_"Until next time." They repeated in unison as they scattered away to various corners of the base._

_"Lockdown?" Jim asked, unsure of the red lights blinking again._

_"Yes." Spock swiftly turned around, his coat flowing with the wind with each step. "I will show you to your room."_

_"So we can't hang out a bit more?" Jim asked, hoping to not sound desperate. It's been too long since he had conversation with someone who wasn't preaching about dead aliens, invasions and Earth borders._

_"Not now, no. Lockdown requires that everyone remain in their rooms until sunrise." Spock explained. "It is required in case of a breach."_

_"I see." He tried to not frown._

_Spock gestured down the corner. "This way. Your roommate is waiting."_

_"Oh." Jim nodded. It made sense. Space needed to be saved. "Who's your roommate?"_

_"I do not have one."_

_Jim wanted to slap his forehead. "That makes sense. You're the leader so that would have been an obvious fact." He's seen this before._

_Spock's brows furrowed together. It was the most telling expression of his current mood. "Everyone has responsibilities, Jim. I have many. I am a part of all scouting missions, and I am on two shifts, occasionally three. I oversee the security room and update it whenever possible, especially since I created it when assembling the base together. I would never ask someone to do something I would not do myself."_

_Jim flinched a little, hoping Spock was oblivious to his shock. He was the new one here. Spock had no obligation to explain in such detail. "Spock, I get it. There isn't a need t –"_

_"It is imperative that you understand, considering your history."_

_A cough got stuck in his throat. He barely talked about Salvatus – He only stated that the people he was with were insane._

_Ah. The recordings were enough proof._

_"Jim, the only thing I require is a place for solace. I need isolation to meditate, considering the damage my mind has tolerated since the invasion. My lack of a roommate is not a sign of egotism or favoritism. It is out of necessity."_

 

* * *

 

Jim pushed away his thoughts. "Goodnight, kid."

Karim put the blanket up to his shoulders. "Dude, It's 'Until next time.' No 'Goodbye's' or 'Goodnight's'."

Jim raked his hair with his fingers, looking at Karim quizzically. "Is that a rule?"

"Nah." Karim pouted. "Just something the kids created and the adults went along with it. Kids think 'Goodnight' is a jinx, and 'Goodbye' as permanent. The Chief decided to participate when he realized that it averted their fears. At least, that's what he said."

His eyelids were starting to become heavy. "I see …"

"He may seem a bit uptight, but I guarantee you - The Chief's a chill guy." Karim said with a smile.

It was a statement Jim was already well aware of.

"Does he require you all to call him Chief?"

Karim shook his head and pointed at his new roommate. "That's what makes him so chill. When I got here a year ago, our main security guy, Steven started to call him Chief just to irk him."

"Let me guess – everyone joined in?"

"You bet your ass we did!"

Jim ended the night with another laugh and in need of a drink, preferably a purple one that sparkled and burned as it swam down his throat. He had to change and stop living off caffeine-coated sugar, adrenaline and thoughts of the past.

It was the first night he slept without recorded reminders of brutality, ignorance, lies and death.

. 

.

.

It was a new day – the beginning of a new life.

Jim began his day immediately looking for Spock. The task ended up as if he was looking for a ghost that everyone knew existed but never spoke of.

Karim showed him to Spock's room except there was no one to open the door, and so his quest began. It actually ended up being kind of fun.

He was the rat in the maze, finding nooks and crannies wherever he turned. Apparently, he became somewhat of a celebrity. The special treatment was hard to ignore and it sparked something warm in him, and for once it wasn't for the fear of burning.

A woman he came to recognize as Kumar's mother showed him to the replicators. Savitra took his wrist hostage and recited what could be dialed and what was growing in the backyard.

The garden consisted of vegetables and potatoes were the most abundant. The machines were taken from Starfleet headquarters and the Academy and rewired to be accessible to everyone.

"Steven and Terrence are always in the back fixing things here and there. I swear those two need to see the sun, especially Steven." She tossed her hip-length black strands to her back with a confident sway.

"Tell me." Jim nudged her, happy to act like a Cali girl ready to get into the gossip. "Hypothetically, if I were looking for the Chief -  where would he be?"

She raised her eyebrows twice as she dialed up something Jim couldn't see very well. Her olive shall with gold lining was folded at the end right before a skirt of the same pattern. "I swear he has this thing for Earth history, so you'll probably catch him in the library." She took out a plate filled with fruits, some he didn't recognize. "Here's some guava and mangoes for your deprived self." She hid the observation with a smile.

Jim put his palms under the plate she passed him and before he could thank her, she was walking, her dress dragging on the floor.

He followed her and saw the layers of green. There was never a time he felt happy to see spinach, cabbage and kale in the best designs.

On the side, there was steaming brown rice. He could have drooled in the middle of his stupor, but an unknown force tapped shoulder.

"Morning, Jim!" Katherine gleamed and wrapped her arms around him. She whirled behind him greeting Savitra right after with a tighter embrace.

Jim was realizing that this place was full of huggers.

"How was your sleep?" Katherine said while rubbing one eye with a grey shirt that was too big for her slim shape.

Savitra pursed her lips. "My baby thought there would be a breach last night."

"I heard what happened yesterday. He's a strong one, Savitra."

"I know, it's just that no amount of comforting could help him. He still remembers the attack." She flinched as she finished her sentence.

Katherine tilted her head and gave Savitra another hug. "Kids are cruel sometimes."

Jim joined it and gave Savitra a sad smile. "I saw the altercation. It wasn't fair, but it's a sad reality. Kids can only grow and learn with time."

"Yes, Jim. Kara apologized, and I can only hope she won't do it again."

Breakfast was a comfortable affair. Katherine and Savitra introduced Jim to some more people and their presence set feelings where Jim caught himself answering questions honestly and whole-heartedly. There wasn't any nonsense of concealment for reasons of fear.

He found himself laughing more than he had in months, especially when he witnessed Karim running in incredible speed throughout the cafeteria, trying to escape from an unknown man in red clothing and a military cut. The unknown man's white face was flushed with what Jim could see as anger.

Karim, who was faster and had more technique, circled around the tables screaming, "You'll never catch me Steven!"

"You blasted child!" The gruff man yelled, twitching as he almost slipped on the floor from a sharp turn. "I'll throw you to the wolves!"

"Never!"

What did Jim get himself into?

.

.

.  
 

 

During his visit with Dr. Cardenas, she checked the soles of his feet. "Odd, I thought there would have been wheels under there." She took off her gloves with a smirk.

Jim wiped his face. Would anyone leave him alone?

"I took most of your meds and lowered the dosage. You had enough to poison everyone in the base, new guy."

"I'm fine with that." It wasn't as if he was addicted or anything.

"Also I ask that you tone down your stress. Of course that had been impossible before, but please see this place as a safe haven. You need to drink more water, stay away from the caffeine and work on your body. Now, how long have been having these seizures?"

Jim shrugged. He asked this question many times before. "My memory is blurry. I had them as long as I can remember."

"You have permanent damage, Jim. How do you not know?"

Jim could see a vein popping on her temple. "I just don't." He shook his head.

"So you just Googled the necessary medications and stole them?" Dr. Cardenas was a thicker, short woman who pursed her lips.

"I just knew what I needed." Jim had no idea, but he didn't question it, especially when they worked.

She raised a brow. "I swear you're worse than the officers I had to deal with in Starfleet. I can easily see how you'd annoy a doctor, young man. You are to meet with me in a week's time. If anything changes, you come to me immediately."

Jim jumped off his bed. "Will do."

"Now get your meds." She tsked while tucking her chestnut strands behind her ears. "Dear Universe."

 

.

.

.  
 

 

After a couple hours, Jim signed on for the A shift and he was to start right before lockdown. Granted, he could have chosen another shift that would start tomorrow, but Jim needed to feel useful.

"New guy!"

Jim flicked his gaze just in time to catch a grey rag right near his face. The thrower was a young adult who had what many would call a 'stank face'. The mustache on his face waved along with his scowl.

The man stood up and walked to him, nudging his head up – almost seeing if Jim would size him up as well.

"I see you have fast reflexes. I guess that's a necessary characteristic when one has been alone and stupid so long."

The left side of Jim's face twitched at the unexpected insult. He should have expected it though. Just because the people here were showing affection and excitement, Jim momentarily forgot the rudeness of people.

"Who better to defend me, then me?" Jim shrugged, shoving off his annoyance. How old was the guy anyways? Twenty-two at the most. "What's it to you?"

"Just wondering why valued members of our Warehouse risked their lives to get you?"

Jim glared at the man who was glaring right back. "Why do you care?"

"I have my reasons."

"So trust that they had their reasons. I never asked for it. I saw a better option and took it." He stated. "I did what any sane man would have done."

"From what I've been hearing, your sanity is something I seriously question."

"Look kid – "

"Terrence." The young man rolled his shoulders. "And I am far from a kid."

Jim raised a brow and quickly shook his head. "Terrence – Your chief wouldn't have brought me here if I was a risk to this base."

Terrence stepped back and looked at the rest of A shift running around on their right. "You'll be around children. Please refrain from spitting tales of running into the lights like they're games."

Immediately, Jim's anger dissipated by a fraction – a very small fraction. Although Terrence came across as man in need of manners, he understood where the concern came from. He clenched at the rag.

"I never did, and I won't." It was the only thing Jim could do for now. "What I did outside of these walls won't be spoken of in a way that would sugarcoat the invasion. You have my word."

"I don't know you." Terrence clenched his jaw and quickly itched his nose. "Your word means nothing to me." He took his eyes away from the children running around with brooms.

Jim breathed in and held his ground. He couldn't risk his first day and strangle someone. He felt more ashamed at the possibility of embarrassing Spock, even if the half-Vulcan kicked him out.

Terrence scoffed. "Since a man's word means so much to you, then I give you my word that if these children speak of the lights, laugh at its terror, reducing it to jokes, you will disappear so fast, even the Chief would have no option but to accept your demise. "

"Your threats are useless." Jim scowled. "As you said, you don't know me." His tone was low and clipped, preventing it from rising.

"What's useless are threats. What I am saying is a promise that if you inflict harm and influence my people, your ashes will be scattered, joining the winds of this dead world."

 

_**JUDGE HER!** _

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~X


	11. POST SIM - PART THREE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two updates in the same hour!!
> 
> Here is some Kirk angst.
> 
> I apologize in advance.
> 
> Song: Never Forget You by Zara Larsson, MNEK
> 
> Warning: Mentions of suicide.
> 
> ~X

**POST SIM - PART THREE**

  

 

Jim didn't care about himself. He could take risks in moments when he felt like he was cornered to a wall, however Spock's career was also on the line. His selfishness could not take priority over Spock's life.

Ideally, he would have shredded the contract and walked away with a big 'fuck you' to every uniform in his path. Ideally, they would have gotten a cabin together and grew old in a warm embrace.

In a better fantasy, him and Spock would explore the stars without the limitations of position and authority. They would perform their tasks and entangle themselves in each other's limbs at the end on one bed – in one room – get dressed together – eat together … Just like Warehouse 15.

It's just that Jim wanted to bash his head on the table. He was so stupid. Prior to being inserted to the SIM, it was naive to not take Spock's fears into consideration. They were in this mess, and the pen in his hand was the only way out.

He signed on the dotted line while biting his tongue. As he finished with the letter 'k' his hand shook. With a drop of the pen, his shoulders trembled. For a moment, he thought he would crash on the floor, but the scent of rotten meat never came.

The happiness he experienced in a dystopia formed of messed up elements was something he knew would be insane to go through again. He would ask to go back and be sedated, but with the way everything ended – it would be impossible. Happiness was burned.

Sand.

All Jim could see was sand and he felt bile in his throat. He covered his mouth. He needed to puke. He remembered death and then he remembered that it wasn't real.

Everything was beyond screwed. Also, the cherry on the mess was that Jim had no idea if Spock's feeling were even reciprocated in the real world. It could have all been a reaction from Spock's telepathic deprivation.

He couldn't be just Jim Kirk anymore. He was Captain Kirk, and he had to look over his crew members. He had to take care of his First Officer, and stripping the Enterprise from Spock was something Jim could never do.

Today, Captain Kirk and Commander Spock received a PASS.

**  
**

. 

.

.

 

 

> _Interviewer: You integrated fairly well at the base, considering your experience with your last group of people. On the topic of Camp Salvatus, why have you never fully integrated with the community?_
> 
> _Captain Kirk:   Are you kidding me?_
> 
> _Interviewer: They gave you everything you needed._
> 
> _Captain Kirk:   Warehouse 15 gave me everything I needed._
> 
> _Interviewer: You followed Spock's leadership, but not the leader of Camp Salvatus. Why?_
> 
> _Captain Kirk:   This is just getting insulting._
> 
> _Interviewer: We need to understand your thought process during that time._
> 
> _Captain Kirk:   Listen here. I live on Earth. Last I checked - Earth is a Federation planet._
> 
> _Interviewer: A Federation planet that was abandoned by other Federation planets._
> 
> _Captain Kirk:   Yes that hurt, but we still remained a Federation planet. I was raised with certain beliefs that are more stubborn than my personality. I'm in Starfleet for Christ's sake. How hypocritical would that be? Burn the peaceful aliens!_
> 
> _Interviewer: It would have been understandable to achieve ... compensation. You were only a private citizen, Captain. It was free rein._
> 
> _Captain Kirk:   So? It's who I am. Isn't this what this stupid SIM was for?  ... Warehouse 15 was a base that shouldn't have existed, but it did. _
> 
> _So yes, I followed Spock._
> 
> _Interviewer: You believed him to be worthy._
> 
> _Captain Kirk:   He was - is the definition of it._
> 
> _Interviewer: You also went out of your way to take up responsibilities that were not even requested of you._
> 
> _Captain Kirk:   They became family. I help my family anyway I can._
> 
> _Interviewer:   One might say you were showing off, especially when fixing a generator that wouldn't be needed for at least another year. _
> 
> _You worked for a total of forty-seven hours to fix it._
> 
> _Captain Kirk:   No generator – no power – no protection. 'Showing off' is an immature interpretation._
> 
> _Interviewer: You were exposing yourself to an unknown amount of radiation, Captain Kirk._
> 
> _Captain Kirk:   Are you really going to act like I haven't done that before? Next question._
> 
> _Interviewer: Certainly. You often spent your spare time with the Commander. The friendship that emerged between you two was instant, and yet during the rescue mission you failed him._
> 
> _Captain Kirk:   I failed him?_
> 
> _Interviewer:   Camp Salvatus requested simple information. You had the knowledge to provide it, and each minute you held onto it, they –_
> 
> _Captain Kirk:   How dare you?_
> 
> _Interviewer: Captain –_
> 
> _Captain Kirk:   I said more than enough._
> 
> _Interviewer: Sir? You have to complete it, otherwise –_
> 
> _Captain Kirk:   Fine! I want someone else to conduct it._
> 
> _Interviewer: They would only repeat the same questions._
> 
> _Captain Kirk:   Yes, but they would be wiser and refrain from opinionated statements that deserves a punch in the face._
> 
> _Interviewer: I didn't mean to offend._
> 
> _Captain Kirk:   Your presence – your very purpose is offensive._

_**  
** _

_.  
_

_._

_._

 

>  
> 
> _Interviewer #2: Hello, Captain Kirk. My apologies on behalf of my co-worker –_
> 
> _Captain Kirk:   Just continue with it._
> 
> _Interviewer #2: Okay. So, regarding your stay at Camp Salvatus, we eliminated any xenophobic tendencies –_
> 
> _Captain Kirk:   Obviously._
> 
> _Interviewer #2: You'd be surprised, Captain. Anyways, although there was hesitation – you had no qualms in following a leadership you deemed worthy, however you showed signs of being a natural leader yourself. The members of the base were taken by you quite fast._
> 
> _Captain Kirk:   You guys probably programmed that._
> 
> _Interviewer #2: I guarantee you Captain, all of the people were programmed to adapt. They adapted to you._
> 
> _Captain Kirk:   Stop calling them people._
> 
> _Interviewer #2: You thought them to be people at the time._
> 
> _Captain Kirk:   We both know it wasn't real. Don't insult me._
> 
> _Interviewer #2: I apologize sir. I will move on._
> 
> _Captain Kirk:   Do so._
> 
> _Interviewer #2:   Let's discuss the rescue mission. Your perseverance was praised upon. You and Commander Spock never revealed anything._
> 
> _Captain Kirk:   I am a Captain. I would never risk the lives of –_
> 
> _Interviewer #2:   With all due respect sir, you have to remember that you were just a citizen. You had every reason to relieve yourself of the torture and leave. Although Commander Spock had a Starfleet background with proper training, you didn't._
> 
> _Captain Kirk:   They would have killed me anyways._
> 
> _Interviewer #2:   Is that why you withheld information?_
> 
> _Captain Kirk:   I knew that I might die. I wanted my life to mean something. I should have never survived the invasion if I was going to end up doing something like that. _
> 
> _Slitting my throat was more preferable than betraying my base._
> 
> _Interviewer #2: Not even to save the Commander's life._
> 
> _Captain Kirk:   Logic had to override emotion. Spock would have died with a smile before revealing his home… our home. I accepted that._
> 
> _Interviewer #2 : Captain? Do you need a moment?_
> 
> _Captain Kirk:   Home …_
> 
> _Interviewer #2: Captain?_
> 
> _Captain Kirk:   There was sand everywhere._
> 
> _Interviewer #2: Captain Kirk?_
> 
> _Captain Kirk:   Sand._

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~X


	12. SIM - PART SEVEN

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Three updates in one day.  
> What is life?  
> What is my purpose?!
> 
> Song: Tomorrow by ECHOS
> 
> ~X

**SIM - PART SEVEN  
**

 

  
 

_“Take cover!”_

_Jim stood in a swarm of people running for their lives. Hovercrafts fell from the sky crashing louder than the emergency alarms. Planes would have fell too if not for the shutdown since the arrival of the lights._

_He knew it._

_“Fucking government. Fucking Starfleet and their secrets. Fuck these aliens.” Jim muttered as he saw the lights swirl together, blending and interchanging colors on their murder spree. “Fuck it all!” He hissed, hoping they could hear every word.  
_

_The lights didn’t arrive with the intent to look beautiful in the sky. That was never an option since Jim saw them outside his window the first night. He felt something wrong and he never wanted to be proven right._

_There were piles of non-perishable food, illegally retrieved weapons and water for him in his basement._

_The royal blues clashed with the fiery reds, creating death. The ground wasn’t painted in blood, but in beige sand that shimmered gold in the right angle._

_The lights penetrated the buildings through the cracks, but mainly remained outside. In all his time, Jim barely heard a full scream. The screams always came to an abrupt halt, followed by dead silence. He only heard one scream repeated in the same tune, over and over again – obviously by the same person._

_He turned to his right and saw a woman in a fur white coat frozen in fear, emptying her lungs in the crowd as the lights whisked past her. Sand fell around her while she remained intact._

_Jim would have looked longer, but common sense came calling. He ran back into his apartment and hid in his closet with duct tape covering the edges of the door._

_The closet became his home for the next two days._

 

. 

.

.

 

In Jim’s time at the base, he’d seen the red lights flash thirty times. He knew the occupants by name, their flaws and best traits. The hairs on his face grew into a full beard and he surprisingly liked the feel of it on his skin.

He changed his clothing, making his general colors of dark shades. His health was in peak condition as well (as well as it could be at least), especially from the foods with vitamins he didn’t have to look in the depths of a dust ridden bottle to receive. The gym became his second home. The weight gain helped with his muscle definition and his confidence grew. With more time, he would be better.

Vanity was a luxury – and as he used to say, so was enjoyment. Either way, Dr. Cardenas approved of his improvements.

Two weeks in and Spock still remained as the Warehouse ghost. The Chief was in the garden, but never when Jim arrived. The Chief was in the Security room, but Jim wasn’t allowed in there. Jim would knock on Spock’s room door and silence would follow.

There would be a glimpse of a man in the black coat, but with one blink, it would be as if he was never there. Markus and Anastasia would see him, never explaining in detail. Karim explained that he saw Spock at least once a day.

 

It was as if Spock was invisible only to him.

Did he scare the Chief off?

 

Was Spock going through something because of the reemergence of his telepathy?

 

Jim hoped not.

 

At the end of those two weeks, right after red lights flashed in the morning, he found Spock punching away in the gym. It was too early for the room to be occupied by anyone in the base so he was surprised to hear grunts and pants, accompanied by an irritated bark.

As part of his routine, Jim strolled in; clearly knowing someone was inside the room from the sounds of it and muttered a ‘morning’ while stretching his skipping rope. When he didn’t receive a response, that’s when he looked up.

He was met with the ghost of the Warehouse.

 

“Hello Jim.” Spock shook his fists, pausing the punches, still moving his feet in little jumps.

 

Jim huffed with a low chuckle. He put the rope behind his neck to stretch it some more. “Do you just teleport between rooms?”

 

“I do not have the ability to scatter my atoms at my leisure, no.”

 

Jim forgot his rope and grew tempted to understand what was going on in the Chief's head. He knew he was now similar to a child who craved attention, except he was past that now. He was too deep to check his flaws and correct himself.  “Doesn’t stop you from running away when you hear my footsteps though, does it.”

 

Spock avoided Jim’s eyes and gazed at his own bandage wrapped knuckles instead. His mouth opened, only for him to shut it again. “I apologize for my absence. I would have asked how the base has treated you, however many speak highly of you here, and I can see that your health has improved. Dr. Cardenas has informed me of the necessary details.”

 

“Yeah, I’m fine.” _For now._

 

Spock nodded and resumed his punches.

 

Didn’t Spock just want to talk to Jim just for the plain sake of talking?

 

Jim wasn’t some duty to be fulfilled. He tilted his head and observed the man in front of him. A brighter green hue colored Spock’s revealed skin as Spock continued to punch the bag with harsh impacts, void of pattern.

That bag was being decimated.

 

“You’re angry.” Jim concluded. “I mean, I heard about Vulcans and emotion, but your anger is clear as day.”

 

“Anger is a symptom of a lack of control, and I – “ Spock punched twice more. “I am in control.”

 

_Clearly._

 

Jim would have rolled his eyes, but refrained. “Don't deny it Spock.” He dropped his rope and went behind the deformed bag stand to hold it tight between his palms. “You’re mixing up anger, which is inevitable sometimes by the way, and uncontrollable anger.”

 

“There is no anger to be found in a base with power, healthy people, proper sustenance – “

 

“And you did all that. People respect you here and know that if it weren’t for you – “ He gripped the punching bag when another force made him stumble. “- some people have a home. That’s the thing about anger. It can creep up on you in peek conditions.”

 

Feeling anger shouldn’t matter on such a heightened level. It is the method of coping that counts. Some were healthy and some were not.

Spock’s whole aura made Jim question which one it was.

 

“I am not angry.” Spock hissed with clenched teeth, delivering harder punches. “To be angry is to be ungrateful.” He let his hands fall and Spock stared back, looking through the bag, looking through Jim. The lights weren’t even on maximum setting and everything was tinted with a toned-down tangerine.

 

Spock’s coal eyes reflected the illumination from the ceiling and Jim shivered. There was fire blazing in the center of those eyes. Spock was entranced, stuck in his real answers – answers that were hidden from Jim.

 

His words weren’t going to work if he stuck on this path. A change of tactic was needed, and he knew just the thing… hopefully.

 

“Who do you see?”

 

Spock flicked his gaze at Jim, as if just noticing his presence. “I see gym equipment." He raised a brow. "I see - "

 

“When you’re punching the bag, who do you see?” He reiterated, adding a more stern tone to his question.

 

When Spock looked at the bag and started to glare at it – Jim raised his voice.

 

“When you punch this bag, who’s disgusting, despicable, unworthy face do you want to crack with your fists?!” Jim moved from behind the bag to walk ahead, standing beside Spock, talking in his ear with arms crossed.

 

“I do not commit senseless murder.” It was a mere whisper, his eyes never moving from the bag. “Senseless acts of violence are unforgivable crimes.”

 

“Well you certainly feel that someone out there deserves it, Spock. The question is _‘who?’_ ” He continued to taunt the Chief. “Would you grab a weapon and make it quick?” Jim stepped closer, dropping his voice. “Or would you make it intimate?”

 

Spock lifted his head up with eyes closed, intently listening. At that moment, Jim felt like his whispers were the same as the ones in Spock’s mind since the Chief hummed in agreement.

 

“Would you wrap your hands around their neck, feeling their last breath leaving that feeble body?”

 

Jim knew he was going too far, but he didn’t want Spock to hold in that passionate emotion any longer. It would build up, becoming more toxic by the minute. Spock wasn’t forced to play monk and Chief at the same time.

 

As he heard from Markus many times, Jim was a crazy one since he created something like Bud. In actuality, Bud was there to keep Jim’s sanity.

 

Jim needed Bud because he was alone. Spock had people, and yet Jim could see that Spock was in so much need to let out those jumbled, unorganized feelings coated with unreasonable emotions.

 

Jim wanted to be Spock’s Bud.

 

“Now, tell me. Who do you see? Is it a man or a woman? Is the face of an oval or strong as a square – “

 

Spock tilted his head, looking intensely at the bag. “It is a man.”

 

Jim exhaled with relief. He was getting somewhere.

 

“It is a woman.”

 

Jim then found himself straggling back as Spock approached the bag once more. He grew confused.

 

“His face is as thin as a rectangle. Her teeth are brittle, stained from the overuse of chemical sticks. Her hair is as white as her blood deprived nails. Her hair is as dark as mine and as light as yours. His beard is black and thick from years of ill grooming. His face is bare and smooth as a newborn. His skin resembles the ash on the ground as her pigment is identical to the rotten bark of a tree. Her eyes are of the ocean while her eyes are as dark as the abyss of those oceans and they – _Should. All. Burn.”_

 

Jim was wrong about the anger. What he saw within Spock was rage, and he visibly brought himself back in control. He couldn’t show the shock on his face.

 

“Spock…”

 

“I see mankind.” Another punch. “I see a species so adamant on destroying everything.” Spock switched positions and hit it three more times, his hair no longer sleeked back but full of weight, covering his eyes. “In a time that requires strength and absolute unity – they blamed and blamed, literally burning all hope.”

 

Jim took a step back, his body screaming at him to run from the evident threat in the room, but his mind knew better. He’s been on the defensive for almost a year; he had to remember that not all anger ended in murder.

 

This was Spock.

 

_Universe._

 

Spock continued, huffing with the punches. His voice got deeper and the red bag was swinging, clinging on while it became deformed with each second. “I wanted to burn them. Not with the mercy of the lights, but with the fire forged in Terra, just as they burned my people.”

 

The metal above the bag snapped, and a red blur flew halfway through the gym after Spock twirled and kicked the destroyed equipment.

 

“There will never be enough bags.”

**  
**

 

. 

.

.

 

It felt … it felt euphoric.

 

These were the thoughts chanting in Spock’s head as he slept in foreign home after foreign home, hiding from the people he used to walk beside.

 

When he realized the wrongness of these thoughts, that was when he finally returned to himself. The self that gave everyone a chance, just like his own people on Vulcan, and just as he did when he arrived to this melting pot of a now doomed planet.

 

As the red bag rolled on the floor, Spock had killed the cancer growing within him.

 

“That is not all I see.” He admitted to Jim, who was staring at the bag with a look of disdain.

 

Jim blinked a few times and turned to him, remaining five feet apart. “What more could there be ..."

 

There was an urge to be closer, except Spock remained in his spot. “I see disappointment. I should be better – I was taught to be better, and yet I am reduced to wanting to commit such violence, and I am aware that in the end, I would abhor my existence. There is no joy in vengeance.”

 

Jim stared Spock with what he thought to be the most earnest look to grace his sights. “When you found shelter, why did you let people stay with you? Why did you start this base?”

 

He clenched his eyes. “There was a need – “

 

“A need for what?” Jim urged.

 

“I had to prove to myself that mankind are not all the same.” He learned that he was wrong. He was so, so wrong. In all the time of trying to survive, he never thought of his mother. He never used the word, but it was so _stupid._

 

From Spock’s point of view, he could see a flicker of a smile form on Jim’s face. He was not oblivious to the momentary look of fear on Jim’s face, and he was relieved for it to be gone. Jim should never be scared around him.

 

If anything, Jim would be the safest by his side.

 

When Jim walked in his direction, he instinctively took a step back. Jim’s presence made him question and act out of his norm since the blond entered his life. He would have left the gym, just as he had every room since Jim moved in.

 

When he received messages that Jim was actively looking for him, he forced himself to concentrate on other matters.

 

He was fearful of what this man could do. What Spock experienced so far was enough for him. He had to ignore his desire to experience more and shut him off completely.

 

Intimidating eyes looked at him, and he knew – he knew he was failing.

 

Was there a point to any of this?  Jim would not hinder his abilities. He could still lead his people.

 

He already expressed his beliefs that the occupants within the base had to not only survive, but to live as well. Was he not deserving of the same?

 

“There’s this saying – you might like it.” Jim pointed at him, and then placed his finger under his chin. “The human species is made up of (1) nine billion subspecies, each consisting of one original specimen. Some are kind, some are courageous, and some are extremely intellectual while some need help for the basics. Some have the urge to rule while some are comfortable in the confinements of their small homes.”

 

The smile Spock was presented with was a wide one, flashing teeth.

 

“There’s one me.” Jim sadly smiled. “And there’s one you. Thankfully.”

 

Heat spread to Spock’s face. At least Spock could blame it on his excessive exercising. Who was this man to make him feel so much, confess so much?

 

He turned away, trying to look as consumed as possible in the corner of the room.

 

“I don’t know what to say, except that we’re flawed, Spock. It’s been proven so many times, but we always find a way out. A light at the end of the tunnel.”

 

“Will there be a light to be found this time?”

 

“Probably not, but if it does – you’ll be the root to all of it. That unity you speak of, it starts here. You gave people the chance you were deprived of.” Jim pointed at Spock's chest.

 

Spock turned his head so fast and gazed at the finger on his shirt.

 

“It’s one thing for some humans to acknowledge that every alien isn’t at fault because it’s an obvious fact, but it’s different for any alien to even want to listen and understand us after we have betrayed them to the core.” Jim’s shoulders drooped as he sighed.

 

The finger was replaced by Jim’s whole palm and Spock’s whole body became hyper aware of his chest.

 

“You’re special, Spock.” Jim added, stepping closer.

 

There was a slither of space between them.

 

“Am I?” He questioned.

 

A laugh resonated from Jim. “You are to me.”

 

In that moment, Spock realized that he deserved to be alive.

He wanted to be alive.

 

Jim retracted his hand and stepped back, scratching the back of his neck. “Umm – Guess I’ll start my exercises then.” He fumbled in his voice as he stepped back.

 

Spock had to stop him.

 

“Skip it.”

 

He saw Jim halt in his steps.

 

“Join me for breakfast.” He added. “Please.”

 

The pause between them was dragging too long for Spock’s liking, but he left his request floating in the air. He stood there and gulped, making sure to keep the sound low.

 

Jim turned around and shrugged. “I guess a cheat day wouldn’t hurt.”

 

Maybe this was okay.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm such a sucker for this quote : "The human species is made up of seven billion subspecies each consisting of one specimen." Robert Breault.
> 
> (1) It's the future you guys - I changed seven to nine billion. 
> 
> ~X


	13. SIM - PART EIGHT

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More SIMiezzzz
> 
> Song: Felix Cartal & Clockwork - The Fire ft. Madame Buttons (Skrux Remix)
> 
>  
> 
> ~X

** SIM – PART EIGHT **

 

  
 

There were lessons being conducted outside of the base walls. Clayton, a buff man, a man who Jim thought had a permanent look of scorn, was all the sudden teaching the kids how to fight with a stick. Kids of many heights followed his movements with determined expressions.

 

Jim sat in the grass and observed the group of people as they practiced and eventually formed in pairs.

 

“The lights are a predictable enemy, but we are the most unpredictable creatures on this planet. Nothing has yet to breach our walls, but nothing is guaranteed.” Clayton clasped his hands behind his broad back while walking between the kids, nodding at some of the movements with approval.

 

“Phasers have been rendered useless. Bullets are not unlimited! We all only have one permanent weapon. What is that weapon?!”

 

“OUR BODIES!” They yelled in the same tune.

 

Jim was immersed in the scene. He would have joined in, except he would have looked like a fool, considering that his body was currently a rock. His constant exercising made his muscles stiff. He just needed rest right now.

 

“We need to be in peak condition. If push comes to shove, we have to run at great lengths and be swift! Your very lives depend on it, and that’s not possible if you lay on your asses all day.”

 

The group chuckled at the profanity, but quickly shut their mouths when Clayton turned around with a glare. It was a cute sight to see. Jim might join in one day. He already liked his yoga experience, and that was a welcoming surprise.

 

A kid Jim knew by the name of Harrison pointed at him with a cheeky grin. “Jimmy over there outran a light!” The kid blurted out, causing hums and words of agreement. Giggles ensued among them.

 

Clayton looked at Jim and back at the kids. “Jim trains every day. If he never took care of himself, he would certainly be ash. Now – switch positions!”

 

Jim waved at the group while standing up. It was time to go. He was becoming a distraction.

.

.

.  
 

  

It was almost time for lockdown and near the end of Jim’s second shift. He rolled up his sleeves preparing to leave when he bumped into Terrence, a guy who also had the C shift with Jim too.

 

_Great ..._

 

“New guy.” Terrence cheekily smirked.

 

Could this man be a more perfect example of a high school bully? Jim deliberately bumped right back into Terrence on his way out.

 

Jim heard Terrence scoff behind him, and he rolled his eyes in response. He couldn’t win with everyone. Thankfully Terrence left it at that ... for now.

The children turned in early, whereas the others from C shift were just now getting ready to leave. Oddly enough, everyone liked Terrence. No one spoke ill of the man who happened to have layers of attitude under that ivory skin.

Terrence participated in half of the shifts. He worked security with Steven, which meant he probably worked closely with Spock.

Markus also claimed that Terrence didn’t have a mean bone in his body.

 

_LIES!_

 

So what was it about Jim that made Terrence so foul? Whatever it was, he hoped to find out soon. Weapons weren’t allowed inside the base, however his instincts kicked in at times. Jim grab for a nonexistent knife whenever Terrence was near. 

In another world, Jim would have shoved off the attitude, except the last time he underestimated people, they ended up being capable of senseless murder.

 

“Until next time, Jim!”

 

Jim waved at the older woman by the cafeteria exit.  “Until next time, Lexa!”

 

He walked passed the door and into the hallway towards his room.

 

When he strolled in and crashed on his bed, he noticed his snoring roommate. Karim normally didn't turn in this early.

 

“Karim?”

 

“Not in the mood to talk.” Karim mumbled under the covers.

 

Jim lifted his legs, tossing off his shoes, then proceeded to shove his feet under the covers. It was too late to go to the restrooms now.

 

He ignored his full bladder and closed his eyes. “Until next time then.”

 

Karim repeated it with a low grumble.

 

Jim would have questioned why Karim wasn’t in his usual mood. He then acknowledged that some people just had bad days. Sometimes, people just needed to be alone.

 

. 

.

.

 

 

In the month he stayed in Warehouse 15, he would get breakfast right after the red lights flashed. G shift was responsible for the food today and they interchanged with F shift.

 

Jim took the quickest shower, and he scrubbed his body while the toothbrush stayed in his mouth. As he put his wet palms on his body, he noticed that his muscles were getting more defined. He was becoming more like his old self, and he smiled in the confinement of his own space.

 

He scrubbed his scalp with his nails and opened is mouth to let the water create a puddle. It was a funny sensation. After another scrub of his teeth, he shook his head and walked out.

 

Because of the time, he kept the towel on his head first before using it to dry his body. He quickly patted himself then tied it around his waist.

 

Normally he wouldn’t care for his clothes, but since he and Spock started sharing breakfast every second day, he cared more for his appearance. Questioning his growing feelings was something he stopped doing. It was free rein within his mind, and it was oddly comforting.

 

Now if only Spock would stop being so confusing.

 

Jim raked his fingers through his damp hair and fixed his beard. He threw on a T-shirt that had the brightest color. It was a color he would have walked passed in the mall before the invasion, but this color suited him and meshed with his hair. Who knew goldish-orange was his thing.

 

Satisfied after a once over on the mirror, he jogged to the empty cafeteria.

 

G shift was Spock’s favorite day for a reason.

 

Most of the food consisted of vegetables and fruits, whereas the F shift loved butter coated breads and tofu. Meat only happened once, and that was because Markus shot a roaming deer, and even then – there wasn’t enough.

 

Jim just enjoyed that there was coffee everyday. He was growing sick of potatoes. Thankfully, potatoes were flexible. It could be a soft pile or a crunchy hard snack.

 

He waved to Savitra at the back of the cafeteria as they got into the groove of their shift. The rest of the people behind her looked at him and waved back as well.

 

He grabbed two plates and filled it with a decent amount. In the base, one wasn’t constricted with harsh limits, but one had to be wary.

 

This wasn’t a buffet.

 

He looked at his contents and walked outside the doors, red lights blinding him.

 

Clayton nodded to him and pointed to Spock's direction.  The field was empty for now, and he saw Spock sitting with a book, his back to the tree.

 

Spock wore a cotton black long sleeve, with grey pants. The famous Matrix coat was neatly folded on his side.

 

The sun wrapped Jim in warmth – it was the only light that made him feel safe. He placed the plate and bowl between them and tilted his head to properly read the title on the front of Spock’s book.

 

“A Poe fan, huh?”

 

“I have heard of him, but never took the time to read his material. Anastasia and I retrieved hundreds of books six months ago, and I have yet to complete reading the collection.” Spock then looked up. “Greetings, Jim. Thank you for breakfast.”

 

Jim ended up doing that stupid thing when he scratched the back of his neck and smiled to the ground. He should work on that.

 

“Which story is it?” Jim noticed that what Spock held was an anthology. For a pre-World War III piece of literature, Poe still remained in the mouths of many.

 

 _"The Tell-Tale Heart."_ Spock answered. “This is my third attempt at this particular story.”

 

Ah. He was grateful to the universe that he recognized that one. “What are you trying to find out?”

 

“Perhaps you might find an answer to my dilemma.”

 

“Shoot.”

 

“The nameless narrator kills a man because he develops a fascination with his eye. He perpetually disassociates the eye with the man. When he hears the heart beat beyond the floor, he automatically assumes it belongs to the victim.” Spock explained. “He avoids logic and blames the noise to a supernatural element instead of thinking of it as his own beating heart.”

 

Jim bit into a celery stick, deep in thought. “What’s the dilemma?”

 

“The killer jumped to a conclusion that was less probable than the other. Why?”

 

Jim chuckled as he moved Spock’s bowl closer to the confused man. “You have to remember that while the narrator keeps claiming he’s not crazy, he shows symptoms of mental instability. He killed a guy over an eye, Spock.”

 

Spock hummed in agreement.

 

"Anyways, he assumed the thumping came from the victim because he ultimately felt guilty. His stress and intense emotion clouded his common judgment"

 

"Common judgement ... The concept just makes me reconsider our situation.”

 

“Our situation?”

 

Spock nodded, bringing his bowl closer. “The lights. We assume this to be an invasion, but what if we are missing something? What if we have settled on a conclusion that could be incorrect?"

 

The food got stuck in Jim’s throat. Quickly, he punched his chest as he coughed. He didn't want to think of the lights. He brainstormed enough, and his theory was disturbing to the core.

 

“The people who burned Federation species at the stake claimed this to be a purging. The lights do not reside in Terra, and they never cause harm to the natural ecosystem.” Spock stared into his soup. “I do not see what these lights desire with only the elimination of humanoid species while leaving Terra untouched. Could their theory have held some merit?"

 

Jim stuffed his mouth with spinach while shifting in the grass.

 

“Jim?”

 

“Mmmm?” He said while chewing into his food, not leaving it empty for a second, prolonging each bite.

 

“I would prefer to hear you opinion on the matter.”

 

Right when he was going to put his fork right back into his food, the plate ran away. He looked at the thief of his plate with wide eyes.

 

Spock narrowed his eyes with a challenging expression. “You barely speak of the lights, Jim.”

 

“I don’t see why I have to. Everything is fine now.” _You stole my food!_

 

“You are growing nervous.”

 

“Stop saying things like that. You have no idea how I feel right now.” He hated that Spock could see through him sometimes.

 

“Then tell me, Jim.” Spock put his book on the grass, leaning forward.

 

Spock’s hands floated above his. Jim became cautious with a hint of anticipation, but when Spock eventually settled his hands on the space of grass next to his knees, Jim felt the disappointment seethe through his pores.

 

“Explain it to me.” Spock’s words were almost like a spell, and he was stuck in it.

 

The request was earnest.  Jim was burning to oblige. “You won’t believe me.” He shamefully admitted.

 

Spock raised a brow, nudging his head up. “You might be surprised.”

 

Jim couldn’t do it. He couldn’t do it to Spock – not after everything everyone went through.

 

Spock stared at Jim, tilting his head.

 

Jim shivered. “Stop looking at me like that.”

 

“You know something I am not aware of."

 

He immediately reacted in the defensive. “What I know might not be real, Spock.”

 

“Then we can work on it together.” Spock added. “I want to help.”

 

Jim covered his face and deeply inhaled. “The lights don’t live here. They may want to clean this planet of us, but they don’t live here.”

 

Spock didn’t comment – he just nodded with understanding.

 

“It’s just – there was this one time when I saw the lights pass this woman by. I had to run for shelter, so I was sure she died right after. I always wondered why they let her be while ashes piled on ashes in her vicinity.” Jim cleared his throat. “I noticed after a couple of days that the birds were still in the sky. Cats and dogs ran around, and then the wildlife came through the city. That’s when I realized why the lady was left alone.”

 

“And why was she spared?”

 

“She was wearing a fur coat that stopped at her waist. Probably rabbit from the looks of it.” He waved his hand as he stated that fact.

 

Spock’s eyes bore into Jim’s. He could see that there wasn’t an inch of skepticism – just subtle surprise.

 

“The lights couldn’t differentiate her from an animal, Spock.” Jim added. “These lights, we sometimes call them aliens because there’s organization. We call this an invasion, but why couldn’t they see her as the human she was?”

 

Jim recognized that look. Revelation.

 

“They could not.” Spock stated.

 

Exactly. Jim continued, “So I thought about it even further. If they don’t see, then do they think? What is their level of intelligence? They destroy without purpose, and then they just poof.” He opened his fists and mimicked an explosion. “They couldn’t see her shape, her heat signature – nothing?”

 

Spock kept silent, but Jim could see that he was still listening.

 

“Then I thought – Maybe they don’t see - they’re programmed.”

 

Spock stared into nothing. “The fur coat created a glitch within the programming.”

 

Jim could see the gears turning and Spock’s face morphing into something he knew he would never want to see again. Jim was scaring Spock.

 

“This is an invasion, but they’re not the aliens. “ Jim bit his lip. He looked to the temporarily peaceful sky, cringing at what was to come in mere hours. “I think they’re weapons.”

 

He heard Spock’s breath hitch. Unfortunately, he had to continue. No one was around them, but this was something he would say out loud for the first time, so he kept his voice low.

 

“Then that’s when I thought about their nightly absences, and like most weapons – “

 

“ … they have to recharge.” Spock pinched the bridge of his nose. “This is not over, is it? If you are indeed correct, then an unknown species will follow the lights habituating the planet."

 

“It’s not like we can communicate with them. I could be wrong.” Jim hoped to God he was.

 

“And if you are not, our efforts were in vain. Terra would no longer belong to us.” Spock moved his jaw in a tight expression. “This was why the environment remained stable and the wildlife spared.”

 

“Spock …” Jim didn’t like Spock’s change in behavior. It was pure shock mixed with depression. He leaned forward only for Spock to raise his hands up and turn away.

 

“Only you saw what was in front of you while we remained blind.”

 

"Spock ..." Jim urged. "Look at me." He would have held Spock's chin if he had any sense, but he had the respect to refrain.

 

Instead, he moved Spock’s bowl of soup up and lifted the spoon near the Chief’s mouth.

 

“Just … just please eat something.” Jim tried to smile, but it faltered. “Let’s just forget what I said and enjoy our time right now.” _Let’s enjoy it together._

 

Jim wanted to believe that the beings that created something as powerful as those lights were harmless or going to come centuries from now. He wanted to believe that he was just outside and that if he wanted - he could go out for a walk tonight.

 

Anything but this darned apocalypse.

 

Eventually, Spock leaned forward and invited the spoon in his mouth. As Spock lingered a moment longer than necessary, Jim took advantage of the moment and drunk in the scene, barely quenching his thirst for Spock’s company.

 

Spock inched back and opened his eyes. He stretched out his palms, asking for the bowl. Jim offered a weak smile when he gave it back.

 

Laughter suddenly erupted behind them, causing Jim turned his head to the source of the noise. He noticed a group of teens. He could only name a few at this point. Despite being the older ones, they sometimes acted like the rest of the children in this base.

 

“Chief and Lightrunner sitting in a tree - !”

 

Jim’s eyes widened and he threw dry spinach at them, later falling down in a zigzag stream of failure. He could not let them finish the song.

 

“We are by no means on the tree. ” Spock said, quizzically looking at the occupants and back at Jim. “We are sitting near the tree.”

 

“Yes, we are.” Jim snorted while taking his plate back from the spot near Spock, jamming his fork into the salad.

 

His hand shook as he brought it to his mouth. Just as his mind confused him daily about many things, his body was becoming more confusing.

 

_Stop shaking._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~X


	14. SIM - PART NINE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :O
> 
> Song: Dani California by Red Hot Chili Peppers
> 
> ~X

** SIM - PART NINE **

 

 

Jim chewed on his cracker as he walked down the hallway. Anastasia was in front of him, just like every other room for the last twenty minutes.

 

He was kind of stalking her.

 

Kind of.

 

He just wanted to ask some questions regarding the lights. If there was anyone in the base that knew more about them, it was her. She was the only Starfleet officer that was posted in space right before the invasion. The rest have been here for at least two months.

 

There were stories about what took place, but he wanted to hear it from her mouth.

 

When she moved into a corner leading to the gym, he was slammed to the wall with surprising force. Anastasia had both hands on his collar, breathing in front of his face with a questionable look.

 

“You’re following me.” She stated while tilting her head, examining him. “Are you some spy for those freaks on your recordings – because let me remind you, the person who decided to rescue your sorry ass is also a Vulcan!”

 

“Jeez!” He blurted out. “I’m not a spy! I just want to ask you something.”

 

Anastasia’s scoff was expected. “You better not be lying. You may not see phasers anymore, but I happen to have one on me.” She inched closer. “And it’s set to kill.”

 

_Fuck._

 

“I need to know about Starbase One!”

 

The strength that forced him to the wall disappeared, and Jim felt like he could breathe again.

 

“No.” She said as she turned around to walk away, her open hair waving to the side.

 

He was completely caught off guard.

 

“I should have gone about that differently.” He huffed.

 

“Still no.”

 

She was going to leave, so Jim yelled out the only thing that might stop her. “Did you see a ship with the lights?!”

 

She immediately stopped in her step. “The fuck did you just say?” It was a low, challenging tone - daring Jim to retract his question.

 

But he didn't back down. “You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

 

Anastasia quickly scanned their crowded surroundings. They were getting unwanted attention. Jim used his palm to crack neck, and then he shook his wrists. That was one strong lady.

 

“We can’t speak here.” She concluded.

 

Jim nodded. “My room?”

 

“My room.” Anastasia scrunched her nose and began to walk.

 

_Fine._

 

Jim followed behind her, and ignored the looks they got in return. When they reached a shut door, she opened it with a quick motion and both of them entered without a word.

 

She faced him and sighed while Jim stood there waiting for her to speak.

 

“An unidentified ship never came across our radar, but we saw the lights way before you guys did.” Anastasia cleared her throat, looking at the corner awkwardly. “No life readings, and they didn’t move. Without any records of this in our database, we had no choice but to make an educated guess. We tried every language, Jim. Nothing worked. Nothing. Fucking. Worked.”

 

Jim could read her growing irritation. Instead of interjecting, he just let her continue to speak.

 

“Federation allies my ass – one of our ships launched those lights, but no one would believe me. Then … then they got closer, and it became evident that the people on Earth would soon see them. They had to know that something could happen any day. So I did what I had to do.”

 

“You left because … you tried to warn us?”

 

She sat on her bed and looked at her lap. “Illegal departure with three officers. They didn’t make it … obviously.” She shook her head. “Doesn’t matter though. Shit went berserk. Truth is – I don’t know what they are or where they really came from.”

 

It was worse than Jim expected. To think that the lights could have come from one of their own was something he couldn’t grasp his head around. He would rather believe these lights to be aliens themselves.

 

“What do you think’s going to happen?” Jim asked, looking down at her. “Honestly.”

 

“You wanted to know, and I’m telling you – that’s all I know. If the lights don’t go away, then let’s hope they never come during the sunlight.”

 

“Alright.” Jim turned around to take his leave. “Anastasia?”

 

She looked up at him. “Yeah?”

 

“You don’t really have a phaser on you … right?”

 

She only gave him a smile. “I thought you knew the rules. No weapons in the base.”

.

.

.  
 

 

 

After Jim’s conversation with Anastasia, Steven grabbed his arm and led him away.

 

_What is with these people and man handling me?_

 

The second Jim mentioned he used to fixed cars and hovercrafts occasionally, hence some mechanical experience – it was the signature that signed his life away. Steven took every opportunity to steal the new occupant to fix, fix and fix.

 

There was no use in complaining. He worked with Steven after his shifts, and he found it oddly relaxing. Karim stayed in a foul mood, so the separation was something they needed.

 

“Thanks for helping out.” Steven gave Jim a cold cup of water in the energy sucking storage room. At least it used to be a storage room, but the place was filled with machines. He could see that some were manually built from older parts he only read about.

 

“You stole me.” He jested. “Again.”

 

“Same thing.”

 

“So you used to be a Starfleet engineer, huh.” He asked while looking around.

 

“Still an engineer if I have any say so. I served on three ships in my lifetime.”

 

Sweat drenched through Jim’s shirt and he was an absolute mess. When he wiped his forehead with his arm, he wished he got rid of his beard. His thick eyebrows weren’t helping. Jim put his water back down and continued to work on the dysfunctional replicator.

 

A cold shower was in need.

 

Deep in thought, Jim snapped his head up at the door swinging open from a strong force. In came Spock, whom didn't pay jim an inch of attention, and glared right at the ex-Starfleet officer.

 

“Steven, a word.” Spock marched to the corner of the room, and Steven followed without question.

 

What took place made Jim extremely awkward. Was he to stay or continue his work?

 

Spock looked calm at the beginning, but as Steven continued to raise his hands, pointing and huffing – Spock began to twitch.

 

“…order … absolute … No Steven.”

 

“You have got … kidding me! … Think … Why not?”

 

“…bury … never again, Steven.”

 

“Chief!”

 

Spock stepped back, shaking his head while strolling back to the door. Jim quickly put his face down, looking immersed in the broken machine as much as he possibly could.

 

_Say something, damn it._

It would have been too awkward to just say ‘hey’ when Spock was clearly busy, and looking pissed as ever -

 

“Until next time, Jim.”

 

Jim’s head flung up. The acknowledgment stunned him. He attempted to not stutter while trying to forget his messed up appearance.

 

The man in front of him couldn’t have looked more perfect, and the crazy thing was that Spock barely seemed like he tried. All vexation was replaced with a softening gaze.

 

Jim tried to not think about the things he would do if he had a chance and ducked his head back down. “Until next time, Spock.”

 

_Good job, Jimmy-oh._

 

Footsteps resumed and a bang of the door followed. He found himself exhaling, dropping his tools.

 

On his side, Steven paced in circles with a hand on his chin, deep in thought. Jim didn’t dare bother the man.

**  
**

.

.

.  
 

 

Time became a fictional element. Steven and Jim forgot its existence until the alarms rang through every room. Jim cursed between the red flashes.

 

“Shit.”

 

Steven took a sip of his water. “Guess we’re stuck here.” He shrugged as he walked to the corner of the room to retrieve a bag.

 

“You don’t seem to care.” Jim said. He knew that he could leave the storage room, but it would be useless. His own room was locked and even Karim wouldn’t be able to open it.

 

Steven picked up the cotton bag and tossed it between them. He took out some blankets with a low laugh. “Let’s just say I sleep here half the time. I should probably go to the gym or something but Clayton and the Chief would probably catch me. Doesn’t matter. Adriana knows where I’m at anyways.”

 

Jim nodded and accepted a soft blanket. Although Adriana knew where her father was, Karim was clueless. Poor kid probably was worried.

 

“I really need a shower.” He whined, despite his more reasonable complaints.

 

“We’ll run to the restroom the second the search is complete. How ‘bout that?”

 

“What? We need to tell them. There could be a breach.”

 

Steven tsked. “There hasn’t been one so far. This isn’t a ship. The council can’t just ask the computer where everyone is and what facilities are being used.”

 

Jim placed his blanket to the side. He decided to accept his situation. “May as well continue on this replicator until then.”

 

“Stubborn things. I swear if the other ones follow this shitty one, we are screwed.” Steven scowled at the machine. “Even Terrence was having issues with them.”

 

“Terrence seems to have issues with everything.”

 

“He’ll come ‘round.” Steven picked up more tools.

 

“Right …” Jim sighed. “Terrence is confusing, just like Karim. You know that the kid has his shoulders planted to the floor?”

 

Steven averted Jim’s gaze and huffed out a ton of air. The shrug was quick, too quick. “Karim’s just angry that people don’t agree with him sometimes.”

 

“Well he won’t speak to me about it.”

 

“You’re going to have ask the Chief.” Steven was apologetic for cutting off the topic.

 

Jim just continued to work.

.

.

.  
 

 

Taking a shower became a funny affair. Steven ended up bothering him from the next stall the whole time.

 

The singing was the worst and best part.

 

“Black bandana sweet Louisiana. Robbin' on a bank in the state of Indiana!” Steven’s singing wasn’t the best, but the man could sure carry a tune. “She’s a runner, rebel and a stunner. On her merry way sayin’ ‘Baby what you gonna?’”

 

Jim joined in with his rugged voice, swaying as the water caressed his skin. “Looking down the barrel of a hot metal forty-five - Just another way to survive!”

 

“California – “

 

Jim loved this part. “Rest in peace!”

 

“Simultaneous release! California show your teeth – She’s my priestess – “ Steven created beats with his hands tapping the tiles.

 

“I’m your priest! Yeaaaah”

 

“Yeaaaah!” The water in Steven’s side stopped. “You are officially the best person in this base, besides my baby of course.”

 

“Why thank you.” Jim let the water pile in his mouth one more time before spitting it out and turning the water off.

.

.

.  
 

Sleep became a challenge. He was wrapped in a cocoon and yet sleep was a marathon away. He could hear things clicking and moving. There was a pipe system and a generator that sang their lullaby. Out of all the noise, Jim was concerned with one thing.

 

“I hear you gritting your teeth.” He announced.

 

The gritting stopped. “You’re supposed to be asleep.”

 

“You’re not.”

 

“That’s cause I have important things to think about.”

 

Jim chuckled. “Indulge me then.”

 

Steven stood up, and Jim sprung up to follow him. They walked to a far off corner and all the sudden, Steven patted the wall a couple times, peeking Jim’s curiosity.

 

Jim tilted his head to get a better view. “What’s there?”

 

Steven grin was an evil one. “Dead people.”

 

His smile fell, leaving his mouth open. “Not funny in the slightest.”

 

“It was a little.”

 

For an adult with a child, the amount of immaturity that came out of Steven was stunning. No wonder he was always head-to-head with Karim most of the time.

 

“No.” Jim sighed. “It wasn’t.”

 

Steven patted it one more time sparking movement within the wall. A part of the wall sunk in, creating a door leading to some stairs. The hot gust of wind hit Jim's face, causing him to immediately cover it with his hands and turn to the side to let the heat pass him by. It was more of a shock instead of pain. He could imagine bearing to stay there for a long period of time – he would need an insane amount of narcotics for that to be possible though.

 

"The hell, Steven?"

 

"Right down there – " Steven pointed to the dark entrance with a cynical smile. "What we have down there is the answer to all our problems, Jim."

 

Jim squinted. "A weapon to kill the lights?"

 

"I wish. What I meant was, we have a Class C generator. I get shivers just thinking about the things it could do, Jim. It powered this whole place while it was still a training facility."

 

"We could charge our phasers." Jim thought out loud as a joke, and when he was met with silence, he realized that Steven was serious. "We don't actually have a Class C generator?!"

 

Steven cheesed. "Indeed we do pal."

 

"Then why are we using this stuff?!" Jim motioned to the ancient machinery around him with a scrunched nose. He was sure that some of them were pre First Contact. "This is a more permanent solution!"

 

Steven shook his head. "Because even though we need upgrades for our stuff, the generator needs long-term repair. I know upgrades seem easier, but this generator could prevent maintenance issues in the future."

 

"Why are we fixing replicators when we could be fixing this? Lets get started."

 

Steven shook his head while closing the door with another pat on the wall. "We can't. "

 

"Why not?"

 

Steven sighed. "We predict around fifteen millisieverts per hour, and we just can't find the suits. The Chief thinks that people used them to hide from the lights. The prolonged damage will be too much, and it would take a substantial amount of time to fix it in the condition it's in now. We can't risk it."

 

 

“Is that what Spock was talking to you about earlier?”

 

That earned Steven one huge scoff. “Terrence ratted. He told the Chief that I was working on it. It’s contained behind this door, but Spock sees no point in keeping it if it’s not functioning. He wants to bury it.”

 

“He doesn’t want to put you guys at risk.” That explained Spock’s reprimanding attitude.

 

“What I did in the last month is equivalent to what I could have done in an hour. I get in – I get out, but I don’t see how that’s going to work anymore. If I keep this up, I’ll probably die of cancer at this rate.”

 

“When?”

 

Steven did a double take. “When will I die?!”

 

“When is he going to get rid of it?” Jim clarified.

 

“The council has a lot on their plates.” Steven shrugged. “Maybe in a few days they’ll head out and put this thing ten feet under.” His mouth set in a hard line.

 

Jim stuck his nose in the air. The power held too much importance. He didn’t care about the simple things – The garden could supply basic food if all replicators shut down (everyone would be sick of potatoes)– people would live if the water pressure were reduced to a tickling drops, but the one thing that concerned Jim was the security and the temperature maintenance for the medical room.

 

No power or low power would interfere with the surveillance and there were people out there, people who had no problem in burning everyone in this base to get its resources. And no matter what, people would get sick.

 

There was also the fact that his theory about the lights meant that security had to be heightened. Anything could come from the sky … any day.

 

Within the last few days, Jim would feel his hands tremble. He denied seeing Dr. Cardenas again because all she could do was aid in stalling the inevitable.

 

He was a damaged man. There wasn’t much for him to lose, and at least this way – he could go down knowing he fulfilled a purpose. Everyone was needed by someone, and Jim was needed by no one.

 

“Then I guess we have a couple days to fix this piece of junk.”

 

Terror overtook every part of Steven. “You’re as crazy as they freakin’ say.” He said, moving from his area, closing in on Jim.

 

Jim felt warm palms on each side of his face, shaking him.

 

“The fumes got to your head.”

 

Jim raised a brow. “You in or not?”

 

Steven flashed his teeth and held out his hand for a handshake. “Fuck yeah!”

 

When Jim’s felt the weakening of his knees, he didn’t speak on it and held his ground. Thankfully, the scent of rotting meet never came.

 

“You even sleepy, my fellow partner in crime?”

 

Steven rolled up his sleeves, and squared his shoulders. “I’ll get the tools.”

.

.

.  
 

 

McCoy twitched. It seemed that twitching was all he could do as he watched Jim dive into another ball of toxic stress. Granted, the radiation would not be real, but Jim would surely feel every single painful spasm, random nausea and fatigue.

 

He wanted to flip Jim’s bed over, disconnect the SIM and yell at the kid ‘till kingdom come, but he knew that, that was impossible.

 

“McCoy – you’ve been here for hours. Go home and rest.” M’Benga patted his back. “I’ll watch over the team.”

 

“I’m going to sit here until Spock gives this idiot a piece of his mind – my mind – and preach some common sense.”

 

“The Captain indeed has a martyr complex.”

 

McCoy wanted to ring the SIM operator who created Steven. “Someone has to tell him, M’Benga.”

 

The room suddenly became too small – too constricting. Bones took off his lab coat and leaned on a wall, eventually letting his body slide down. He couldn’t go home to sleep. A small nap here wouldn’t hurt though.

 

He needed a moment to get away from the fact that even though Jim fought for his life, there were too many moments that Jim treated his life like it was nothing to lose.

 

The contradiction was too much. All it did was make him reconsider the mental state of his friend.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~X


	15. POST SIM - PART FOUR

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> POST SIM feels!  
> Song: Colors by Halsey  
> ~X

** POST SIM - PART FOUR **

 

 

 

> _Admiral Archer:_ This topic might be a sensitive one, Commander. The connection with you and your Captain was one forged from friendship, although I have to admit that it escalated rather quickly. People have surrounded you and some voiced their romantic interest, but you never entertained them.
> 
>  
> 
> _Commander Spock:_ None of it was genuine. Their feelings were created from idolization. To entertain it would have been an abuse of power.
> 
>  
> 
> _Admiral Archer:_ So why James Kirk?
> 
>  
> 
> _Commander Spock:_ You are all aware that there was a different element involved.
> 
>  
> 
> _Admiral Archer:_ Your telepathy? Would you have been with another if you were capable of melding with them? What of now, here on Earth?
> 
>  
> 
> _Commander Spock:_ You are diminishing its value, Admiral. It is one thing to see, and it is another to see and accept it into ones being as if it was always there. I could see through his eyes and he saw through mine.
> 
>  
> 
> _Admiral Archer:_ And you deemed that enough?
> 
>  
> 
> _Commander Spock:_ It was everything and more.
> 
>  
> 
> _Admiral Archer:_ There are so many things that I can understand and you finding happiness in that world is one of them. What I’m having difficulty wrapping my head around is your anger when you found out about his actions in the storage room.
> 
>  
> 
> _Commander Spock:_ What is so difficult to comprehend? He was reckless, again. He undermined my authority. He –
> 
>  
> 
> _Admiral Archer:_ He enhanced everyone’s life, and yet you remained angry with him longer, and more expressively than Steven.
> 
>  
> 
> _Commander Spock:_ My Captain risked his life when I expressly told Steven and Terrence to stay clear as well. Steven had a child. We did not have the proper equipment to pursue long-term repairs.
> 
>  
> 
> _Admiral Archer:_ Answer this for me. Did you value him more than your base, Commander?
> 
>  
> 
> _Commander Spock:_ What he needed to understand was that he was not dispensable, Admiral. He was a man who only thought himself worthy if dead. It was and still is a flaw that needs to be rectified.
> 
>  
> 
> _Admiral Archer:_ Fear of death is not a complementary characteristic as Captain.
> 
>  
> 
> _Commander Spock:_ He was not the Captain. I was.

.

.

.

 

 

> _Interviewer #2:_ We can discuss the rescue mission later, if you would like.
> 
>  
> 
> _Captain Kirk:_ Yes, please.
> 
>  
> 
> _Interviewer #2:_ Why did you risk your health and fix the generator? I know you skipped this question with my co-worker, but I promise that what I have to say is different.
> 
>  
> 
> _Captain Kirk:_ Continue.
> 
>  
> 
> _Interviewer #2:_ How did you expect the Commander to react? Honestly.
> 
>  
> 
> _Captain Kirk:_ I had no idea he would act like … that.
> 
>  
> 
> _Interviewer #2:_ Did you think he would be pleased?
> 
>  
> 
> _Captain Kirk:_ Far from it – I was expecting anger. I wasn’t expecting him to just … the way he acted was unexpected.
> 
>  
> 
> _Interviewer #2:_ You helped him, Captain. You helped everyone.
> 
>  
> 
> _Captain Kirk:_ I know.
> 
>  
> 
> _Interviewer #2:_ So why?
> 
>  
> 
> _Captain Kirk:_ You can’t figure that out yourself?
> 
>  
> 
> _Interviewer #2:_ I need to hear it from you, Captain.
> 
>  
> 
> _Captain Kirk:_ Fine. You want to know so much? I scared him is what I did!

 

. 

.

.

  
 

> _Admiral Archer:_ You have held an immense burden, Commander Spock.
> 
>  
> 
> _Commander Spock:_ Everyone had a duty to fulfill.
> 
>  
> 
> _Admiral Archer:_ Including Captain Kirk. During the rescue mission, you let him endure constant pain knowing very well you could have ended it. Isn’t that a contradiction to everything you’ve said? You wanted to keep him safe, but you decided to not bother.
> 
>  
> 
> _Commander Spock:_ The arrangement to release us was false regardless. … I – It had to be done.
> 
>  
> 
> _Admiral Archer:_ It must have been complicated. I experienced it first hand myself.
> 
>  
> 
> _Commander Spock:_ I said nothing of importance to them. If I did, then they would have had no use for us.
> 
>  
> 
> _Admiral Archer:_ But you also had the comfort of Jim’s words, despite his screams. He made it clear to you that you shouldn’t say a word, and he wouldn’t either.
> 
>  
> 
> _Commander Spock:_ He would have died just as I would have. His actions were admirable. He not only respected my wishes, but believed them as well.
> 
>  
> 
> _Admiral Archer:_ What if he didn’t? As you said, he wasn’t the Captain.
> 
>  
> 
> _Commander Spock:_ He is reckless, Admiral. The SIM was created to show how one would act without the influence of Starfleet. Just as he is reckless, he is selfless and brave. Hypothetical situations are not relevant, nor will he or I be condemned for it.
> 
>  
> 
> _Admiral Archer:_ I happen to agree. I apologize; curiosity got the best of me.
> 
>  
> 
> _Commander Spock:_ …
> 
>  
> 
> _Admiral Archer:_ Moving on then.  Let us discuss the moment you shared your thoughts on humanity to Kirk.
> 
>  
> 
> _Commander Spock:_ There is nothing to discuss. I said everything I had to say on the matter. You could simply re-watch my simulation or read above your current transcript.
> 
>  
> 
> _Admiral Archer:_ Despite what you said a while ago, I realized something and it needs to be addressed. You claim that we are predictable beings; hence our predictable actions and you stated that you reminded yourself that we are not all the same. Although it was all just ‘predictable’ to you, we never discussed how you felt.
> 
>  
> 
> _Commander Spock:_ Does it matter how I felt? My actions speak for itself -
> 
>  
> 
> _Admiral Archer:_ You were betrayed Spock. Will you not discuss this? You spoke of burning –
> 
>  
> 
> _Commander Spock:_ Did I?
> 
>  
> 
> _Admiral Archer:_ What?
> 
>  
> 
> _Commander Spock:_ Did I find a human, restrain them on a stick and drown them in gasoline? Did I throw a flicker of fire in their direction? Did I dance as they screamed? Did I take in only non-human species and form a faction that kidnapped and spilled human blood? Did I use my physiology to gain superiority?
> 
>  
> 
> _Admiral Archer:_ Commander -
> 
>  
> 
> _Commander Spock:_ Did I?
> 
>  
> 
> _Admiral Archer:_ No.
> 
>  
> 
> _Commander Spock:_ Then that is all I have to say on the topic.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~X


	16. SIM - PART TEN

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part one of another double update.  
> Yes, I'm on drugs.  
> Legal ones, I assure you.  
> Song: One Black Sheep by Mat Kearney  
> Enjoy!
> 
> ~X

** SIM - PART TEN **

 

  
 

Jim tapped his chin while looking down on his notes. “How many hours left? I’m thinking five.”

 

“More like seven.” Steven shrugged. “That’s only if the bindings don’t get loose tonight.”

 

It’s been three days since the first stage of restoring the generator, but they had to take breaks. They probably worked forty hours total. Maybe more.

 

The two partners in crime, or so Steven would like to call it (anti-heroes) decided to continue their brainstorming in the Security room, reflecting on the work that was completed and what else needed to be tended to.

 

No one would bother or hear them here.

 

“I feel itchy.” He looked at his forearm for emphasis with a frown. “We look like shit, Steven.”

 

Steven tapped a couple buttons, zooming further into the abandoned city. “Indeed we do.” He said as a matter of fact, no emotion and no guilt to be found.

 

Every time he left his room, Jim tried to look the best he could. If there was makeup, he would have painted his face too - Anything to avoid Spock’s suspicions.

 

The Chief continued to inspect Spock during their breakfast that morning. He should have avoided it altogether, but something chanted in his head to go anyways.

 

He was half paranoid and in bliss while in Spock’s presence. The kids continued to taunt, and Terrence continued to bitch whenever he could.

 

Everything was normal.

 

After Jim’s second shift he joined his coworker as soon as he could. On the way to the small metal room, he had to avoid Karim’s questioning stare. Jim didn’t want to lie to the kid. So when Karim stopped the marching blond to ask how Spock’s room looked like, he practically sprinted away.

 

_“I ain’t stupid!” Karim yelled behind Jim’s retreating back._

 

The reminder was humorous. Jim had yet to see Spock’s room, but he saw Anastasia’s and by proxy, Markus’. One more council member to go.

 

Steven gave Jim a light shove. “What are you giggling about?”

 

He bit his bottom lip and leaned back into his seat, a lazy slouch that he well deserved. “Nothing important. I’ve just been hearing some funny comments lately.”

 

Steven rolled his chair back and stared at Jim with pursed lips. “Like how you're spoon feeding our Chief?”

 

The words made Jim cover his eyes with a deep sigh. “Is this base one big gossip den?”

 

“Younger folks like to talk.”

 

“And you’re one of them.”

 

The comment earned Jim a laugh that was not unkind. “You’re lucky, Jim. This counteracts with the gossip of you in Anastasia’s room – I would have spent my whole savings to see Markus confront you.”

 

Oh God. “He doesn’t seriously think that – “

 

“Nah.” Steven turned back to his keyboard. “Those two are basically married. Plus, you haven’t been much to look at lately.” He chuckled.

 

Before Jim could have continued with their childish banter, jibing back at the insult, he noticed a flickering light. This one was different than the other swarms of colors swimming in the sky.

 

The color was dull and it was inside one of the buildings. Jim pointed directly to it.

 

“What’s … Steven – You’re just ignoring this?”

 

“Yeah, I’ve seen it before.” The screen flickered to another scene of dead roads, crashed hovercrafts and dust-coated homes. “Chief knows.””

 

Spock never mentioned this. Then again, Spock didn’t have an obligation to answer to Jim. “What’s he going to do about it?”

 

“Council stuff.”

 

Jim huffed. “Is that the base’s version for ‘ _classified’_?”

 

Steven crossed his arms, looking away to concentrate on his work. “Just pretend you never saw it … okay?”

 

_No._

 

“Fine. Whatever.”

 

**  
**

. 

.

.

  
 

Spock sat across from Anastasia and Markus in his quarters. Both of his council members had tightened lips with clenched fists on their sides. Normally, he would have enjoyed their banter for it reminded Spock that such things could still exist in a world so dead, but today – he wanted to throw them out the door, close it and never look back.

 

“Karim could be right.” Anastasia flailed her hands up, eyes wide from evident annoyance.

 

“Steven doesn’t agree with him.” Markus interjected. “And I’m with the guy. This is too risky.”

 

Despite the romantic relationship between the two, they never halted in their contradicting opinions on almost everything. He found it bothersome just as he found it fascinating.

 

“ _Jim_ was risky!” Anastasia spat at him.

 

Markus shook his head, inching closer to her. “Jim was a person we could see through cameras, Ana! These are _just_ lights.”

 

“With patterns!”

 

“Patterns my ass. You’re not dying in some stupid trap!”

 

No one was dying under his watch.

 

“Enough.“ Spock stood up from his seat. “We cannot start another mission without definitive proof. There is no choice but to continue surveillance. Until then – we wait.”

 

It has recently come to his attention that Karim was noticing something peculiar on the screens with Steven. There was activity in a building that was probably derived from a human.

 

There was also a likely chance that it was a light that resonated within the building – taunting – adapting. All it would take was simple program update.

 

Regardless, something changed and it was deeply concerning. Karim urged Spock to observe it for the last couple of days, and he refused on every occasion. The teenager frequently compared it to Jim’s rescue, but the cases were nothing alike.

 

They could not afford to think about Karim’s findings.

 

If there were more proof, Spock could move ahead with it, except that was not the situation he was presented with.

 

“Understood.” Anastasia nodded.

 

Markus looked at Spock, showing that he was grateful to give them pause. They both knew this was too risky. “Whatever you say, Chief.”

 

“Now we have another objective to discuss.” Spock sat back down. “I have already mentioned that these lights could be weapons. All our efforts for disarming them have proven useless.”

 

The council members looked at each other then sat down. Last night, Spock came up with a theory – If the lights disappeared during the day, then perhaps they were weakened from ultraviolet lights.

 

Incorrect.

 

They almost got burned for it.

 

“Why are we doing this, Spock?” Markus leaned forward, his expression softening. “We could be provoking them, or we could provoke whatever sent them.”

 

Anastasia interjected. “That’s right. Whatever did this is up there.” She pointed to the ceiling. “Away from here, and away from us. We may have lost our nights, but we still have our days.”

 

Spock hated it. Before he felt betrayal from humans, he felt it from the Federation allies. Then he realized that maybe nothing could penetrate the atmosphere. Earth was a lost cause.

 

“What we really need to discuss is that unstable generator down there.” Markus added. “I know it’s contained but when are we going to deal with that? Why would we fight something we don’t understand if we have this thing in our own base, endangering us?”

 

In truth, Spock didn’t actually want to get rid of it, but as the days went on – his options were dwindling.

 

Anastasia tilted her head, her hair falling to the side. “Terrence wants to come. He’s been a huge help since he got here.”

 

“He’s too young to go on away missions, Ana.”

 

“Please, Markus. He’s just as much of a council member as us. It may as well be official.”

 

“That kid’s been in hiding since the first attack. He can’t handle the lights like us.”

 

Spock listened to them converse … more like bicker over Terrence. Spock agreed with Markus – Terrence was too young, and if Spock had his way – Steven would have been a council member, except the engineer blatantly refused.

 

There were other people they could have considered, except their experiences were needed indoors such as the medical room with Dr. Cardenas – or the great cooks lead by Savitra – or the education programs lead by Katherine – Clayton led some of the activities as well.

 

Everyone had duties, and the Starfleet officers of this base had skills that were too valuable.

 

At least Steven had experience on away missions during his service.

 

Defeating an enemy in a battlefield required knowledge of that enemy. One couldn’t fight the lights, only run and hide. Keen senses were necessary.

 

Fear shook them all.

 

How does one punch or shoot something that degrades their cells to dust?

 

“When it comes time to bury the generator – I will let you know. Nomination for council will be dealt with at a later time.” Spock announced, shushing the council members.

 

As far as he was concerned – this meeting was over.

 

For now, Spock desired to check in with Steven. After his argument with Steven, the ex-Starfleet engineer refused to barely talk. Steven would frequently yawn and wipe his forehead of the excessive perspiration.

 

Spock was not aware if the man was fatigued or growing nervous. He would make sure to inform Steven that daylight savings was among them and the Earth was growing colder. Childish disputes were beneath them.

 

. 

.

.

 

The hiss of the door caught Jim off guard. He hid his notepad under his shirt while flicking his eyes at Steven, cringing at the intrusion.

 

Steven raised his eyebrows from the shock, then changed his face right before he turned to Spock with the fakest smile Jim’s ever seen.

 

One wouldn’t be able to tell they were cracking on the inside.

 

“Jim?” Spock turned to Jim, clearly not expecting him.

 

“Hey, Spock!” He cheered while waving his hand, ignoring Steven's snorts of inappropriate laughter.

 

This was too pathetic for words. He clung onto the notepad right on his stomach.

 

“Jim’s just here to check that weird light in the building.”

 

What happened to _classified_??

 

“Why would you relay confidential information?” Spock lifted a brow. "If I found that suitable, I would have confronted Jim myself."

 

Steven gulped, not out of fear, but from trying to prevent puking his guts on the monitors. “Sorry, Chief. Just wanted to get ahead of it. He’s been outside longer than us. Maybe he knows more.”

 

Jim wanted to smack Steven, and then himself. Why would Steven make up a lie without a second thought? Would Steven really be in that much trouble for bringing Jim here?

 

Karim was here all the time!

 

“I see … “ Spock strolled further into the room, and leaned right in between the seated men, looking onto the screen.

 

Spock’s face was close enough for Jim to nuzzle into if he just leaned in … a bit further … maybe lay his head there.

 

Out of nowhere, Jim slightly jumped when Spock cleared his throat while switching scenes.

 

“And what are your thoughts, Jim?” Spock asked.

 

Pfft – it sounded more like a challenge.

 

“Well … the patterns are definitely odd.” He began. “I’m guessing there might be a person living there.”

 

“Your theory is identical to Karim’s, and I have to say – it is just as plausible as mine.”

 

Jim turned to Spock, and then faced the screen when he realized it was still too close. He had to make a decision of either kissing or vomiting on Spock. “And what might yours be?”

 

Thankfully, Spock moved back, clasping his hands behind his back. “It’s nothing.”

 

Jim held on to his abdomen as he quickly turned around. “Nothing?”

 

“I appreciate your opinion, Jim.” Spock interrupted. “I will take it into consideration.” Spock then tilted his head, staring at Jim as if something was crawling on his head. “You appear to be ill.” He added.

 

Jim used his available hand to rake his fingers through his hair in a bad attempt to look better. “Just losing sleep, is all.”

 

The pause between them was long and deafening. Steven whistled, using the gaps in his teeth making it even more awkward.

 

“There is some material I would like to go over. I expect you in my quarters in ten minutes. Jim can resume the surveillance … since he has no qualms in providing aid in matters he should not be in.” Spock walked out, the door hissing behind his back.

 

Steven frowned. “Ouch, man.”

 

“Yep.” He sighed.

 

Spock was the perfect example of hot (in so many ways) and bitter cold (in ways Jim could definitely do without).

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~X


	17. SIM - PART ELEVEN

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part two of this double update.  
> I hope you enjoy it!  
> Song: Ships in the Night by Mat Kearney. (I already used this song in my first fic 'DVV' & I promised myself I wouldn't do this - but fuck it all!)  
> Warning: Slight OOC w/ Spock - it was well deserved though.  
> ~X

** SIM - PART ELEVEN **

 

 

Shuffling of rapid footsteps caught Spock’s attention. In front of his eyes, Dr. Cardenas was yelling orders at her co-worker along with Karim. They ran in the same direction.

“Hurry!”

They ran towards the room.

His heart fell further down his abdomen as he felt the beats vibrating the veins and arteries in his stunned body. Without a thought, Spock sprinted behind them.

 

. 

.

.

 

 

In his room, Karim bothered Jim regarding his disappearance every chance there was. He would claim to be working with Steven.

Why not?

It was the truth.

They had progress, and maybe with another hour…

 

“You know I’m right about that building, Jim.” Karim pointed at him. “Someone is there, and the Chief won’t do anything about it.”

 

“Whoever it is will eventually leave the building, and when that happens – we’ll catch it.” Jim reiterated for the millionth time.

 

Karim’s shoulders slunk down with a deep sigh that was worthy of his entire exaggerated attitude. “Am I expecting you to not make it into lockdown again? Chief’s going to have my head if he finds out.”

 

“He won’t find out. What’s he going to do to you, Karim?” Jim stumbled in his step as he put his shirt over his head, around his shoulders and down to his waist. “Seriously?”

 

“Nothing …yet. He can be one scary guy. Did you know he was a Commander?” Karim pursed his lips. “Wow, right?”

 

Despite his physical improvements, days beside the generator made all of it go away. He looked okay, except he _felt_ worse than when he survived off those energy drinks.

 

He looked at Bud and was met with one content look. It was that same knowing gaze. Bud was always a witness of what was to come.

His eyelids became heavy. He started to breathe in the aroma of grass mixed with rotting meat, decaying as the blood boiled, evaporating into the air.

 

_Oh no._

 

He immediately rested on his bed with seconds to spare. The ceiling flew down and engulfed him, tightening his limbs. The radiation exposure violated his probation, and he was once again sentenced to his body.

 

“What are you guys working on anyways?” Karim asked, oblivious to Jim’s pending pain. “Is it necessary to risk being out during lockdown? Adriana might say something – but then again she wouldn’t rat out her dad. C’mon you have to let me in on the secret!”

 

Jim saw a shadow take over, darkening his cocoon.

 

“Is it something that’ll let us all have hot showers - like all the time, or are you updating the replicators to create some insane types of food? Whoa, what if it’s…?”

 

The mumbles around him became more panicked. The vibrations kicked in and Jim didn’t have enough time to clench his eyes before he lost control of that too.

 

“Jim? … James? Holy fuck on a stick!”

 

The blood red swirls on Bud’s cheeks began to spin.

 

“HELP!”

 . 

.

.

 

It was Jim.

 

Spock clenched his fists as he listened to Dr. Cardenas in disbelief. Anastasia put a palm on his shoulder, squeezing with intent for comfort. The collar of his shirt was wider than usual, and when her thumb touched his skin … he felt nothing. The Med facility was cold and void of positive thoughts.

Any thoughts.

The only person that could make him feel less empty was unconscious and in pain.

 

“Your tricorder is faulty.” Spock concluded. “Have it delivered it to the storage room and retrieve another.”

 

Jim was stable and Spock knew that he should calm down as a result, but no matter how much he tried, his fingers trembled.

The first time he had seen Jim in this state, he was worried, but he knew that if Jim were to die, he tried his best in the end. Mourning would not have been in his best interest. A man in his position could not grieve.

This time, Spock found it a complicated task to look at Jim’s paled skin, slowly breathing – unaware of the world.

 

“Chief, I have run these tests more times than I can afford. His symptoms are a result of radiation exposure. It’s not fatal, but with his condition – it was the last thing he should have had to go through.”

 

Anastasia walked around Jim’s body and shook her head with confusion. “Where could he have been exposed? I can only think of the storage room and all of our power is generated from older technology.”

 

“Perhaps this is a result from his previous interactions with the light? At least, that’s my theory.” Dr. Cardenas suggested.

 

“Symptoms of radiation exposure were not found in other survivors.” Spock added. He stepped back and turned around. Karim was listening outside of the door, and he knew this young man was the one with the answers to his questions.

 

“Karim.” Spock said his name in a way that if the kid did not speak soon, there would be dire consequences.

 

“I swear I know nothing, Chief!” Karim flung his hands up, shutting his eyes for a physical assault that would never take place.

 

Spock inched closer, using his height to his advantage. “You dare lie to me?”

 

“Look man, whatever James was doing, he sure didn’t tell me. Steven would know – those two have been missing lockdowns and …”

 

“Missing lockdowns?”

 

Karim’s words became nothing but meshed vocals after that.

 

“Chief?”

 

Spock walked past Karim and marched down the hall. He was biting the inside of his cheeks as he held his head high, avoiding everyone’s gaze.

Each step was a mark of his grating determination. After passing the library entrance and walking into the storage room, he caught sight of Steven leaning outside of the chamber doors.

 

“Are you aware of what is taking place upstairs?” Spock raised his voice with every intention to intimidate a man he thought loyal, logical and a great father above all else.

 

Steven shook after he shut the door. “Ch- Chief?” He dropped his tools with a clang and shrunk back.

The small light bulbs illuminated Steven’s deprived features. Spock should have seen it before. Steven had droplets of sweat coating his forehead.

 

A couple large steps forward, and Spock was right up to his face. “I trusted you.”

 

The clanging behind the walls got louder, slowing down until complete silence. Spock looked behind him, but there was nothing there. Soon, the clanging resumed and after moments – became a smooth hum. It was an actual consistent melody that Spock never heard before.

 

“I’m sorry, I really am – but it had to be done.”

 

Spock could not believe it despite the evidence he was faced with. They actually did it.

 

“It was to be done under my authority, and I do not recall giving out permission for you and Jim to resume repairs. In fact, I specifically ordered you to – Stay Away.”

 

“Chief.” Steven’s eyelids became droopy. “You …. Sometimes in life, someone needs to make the hard shots.”

 

This was unnecessary! They had at least another year before they could even consider the class C generator. They could have returned it when they were _ready_.

 

“What of your daughter? Have you thought of her while you risked your life?!”

 

“S’all done now.” Steven became heavier and his breathing became slower. “Tell my baby I love her … okay?”

 

Steven fell with a thud.

 

Although pointless, he uttered his fallen co-worker’s name. “Steven?”

 

No – no – no!

 

How could this have happened – and under his watch?

Spock decided to not waste anymore time and whisked Steven’s body above his shoulder.

 

“I need medical assistance!” He declared as he exited the library. For the first time, when heads turned in his direction, he raised his voice to the top of his lungs among them.

 

“NOW!”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~X


	18. PRE SIM - PART THREE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I say screw it all and add another!  
> *Waves a wine glass while blatantly ignoring all my despair*  
> Love ya!  
> Here’s some PRE-SIM action!  
> Song: Hanging On by Ellie Goulding
> 
>  
> 
> ~X

** PRE SIM - PART THREE **

 

 

 

 

> **[ _We will not go quietly into the night!_ **
> 
> **_We will not vanish without a fight!_ **
> 
> **_We're going to live on!_ **
> 
> **_We're going to survive!_ **
> 
> _**Today, we celebrate our Independence Day!]** _

 

Jim had every urge to throw popcorn at the fictional President on the screen. “C’mon! That speech couldn’t have been more perfect!”

 

Pre-Warp movies were the best simply because … aliens. It was always a funny task to peek into the past minds of those who had no idea of what was out there before it became fact, and stuff one learned about in schools with evidence.

This movie however, was a great example of unity in trying times.

 

“President Witmore is clearly in favor for the theatrics.” Spock commented as an applause broke out.

 

This was their fourth post-apocalyptic movie. Spock mentioned the funniest things, which nearly had Jim rolling on the floor.

 

\- The XO wondered why the majority of the events centered on the United States – or the first attack would begin in the United States or why the United States was always the country to finally end the war for mankind? Is it not a collective effort?  


\- Why do top nations argue over petty matters when billions are at stake? - Why is there a huge concern with political correctness? Time is critical and they are avoiding the issue.

\- An antidote is more important than diplomacy.

\- Could the situation not be diffused if Russia released their classified information – the nation would not crumble from sharing such little knowledge.

\- Why did China decide it best to commence solo missions without informing the United Nations, thus only causing more conflicts?

 

Jim’s favorites began like this:

 

\- Fossil fuels held an immense burden; I am perplexed as to how you all survived this long.

\- Once again – **money** – How is money a concern when this is a cataclysmic issue. The economy will cease to exist if they do not take the required actions. 

\- How is the Jerusalem Wall going to defend the people when it can easily be crumbled by the slightest sound? It only prolongs the inevitable. These zombies are enhanced.

\- Did they just assume all extraterrestrials to have deceptive agendas? And no, Jim - I am not offended from a generation long past.

\- Why did the news only broadcast disaster in popular cities and hide the ones from poorer regions – did human life only hold as much value as its economic status?

 

And it went on and on.

 

All Jim could say was that pride, money and distorted religion was the root of all evil. The deaths of billions wouldn’t steer people away from their desires and beliefs.

 

“A leader needs theatrics sometimes. Inspiration can get people to do things they never thought possible.”

 

“Of course you would vouch for something you already indulge in.”

 

Jim moped. “I’m not dramatic.”

 

Spock tilted his head to the side with his famous raised eyebrow. “Lying gets us nowhere.”

 

Jim bitterly crunched on his salty popcorn, sitting on the floor of his apartment in a simple white T-shirt and shorts. He yawned. “We should be sleeping.”

 

Spock held his cup of water, sipping into it every few seconds while the movie played. “You and I are both aware that sleep will not occur tonight.”

 

Jim snickered while nudging Spock’s shoulder. “Bones’ going to kill us.”

 

There was only four hours of freedom left before they headed out and into a sleep that had every opportunity for ruining what he’d accomplished – for ruining the happiness he’d achieved despite his doubts earlier in life.

Asking Spock to stay was instinct. There was no way he would let Spock return back home – all worried and away from him.

 

No. This was good, and Spock’s presence made Jim cozy.

 

_Incoming call_

 

Both of them turned to the corner of his holo-screen, so he inched forward to pause the movie with exploding buildings, aliens and kick-ass Presidents to accept the call.

 

When Jim noticed the caller ID, he turned back to Spock to see if it was okay to accept while they sat next to each other – it was also a video call.

 

Spock nodded, and Jim shook his head at the stupidity, it wasn’t a big deal.

 

Really.

 

“Kirk here.” Jim answered as the footage cleared its resolution.

 

 _“It’s too late to call - I know, but I had to try.”_ Uhura’s voice came through right before Jim and Spock could see her.

Her hair was down and her clothes were casual. _“Well – I guess I hit two birds with one stone.”_ She said as she turned to Spock.

 

“Evening, Nyota.” Spock nodded his head with a subtle smile on his face.

 

She flashed her teeth in a genuine smile. _“I feel as if I’m out of the loop. Am I the last to know you’re both taking the SIM together?”_

 

“Frankly, I have no knowledge of how this information reached the rest of the senior crew.” Spock answered.

 

Jim sighed scooting back to his seat. “We got calls from everybody. I was beginning to think you didn’t care.” He teased.

 

Uhura waved her hand dismissively, tsking at them. She raised an eyebrow, her gaze looking from their snacks to their pajamas. _“Clearly you guys aren’t worried. And here I was trying to wish my fellow officers luck.”_ She raised her hand. _“And don’t talk about luck, Spock – Just take it and smile.”_ She cheesed.

 

Jim burst into guffaws right when Spock shut his mouth. He covered his mouth when Spock turned to him, asking him with every facial muscle he could to please stop.

 

_“I know you won’t remember if I tell you to be careful, but do it out of common sense, Kirk. Please.”_

 

“I’ll be fine.” He commented.

 

 _“That’s what I thought before my SIM. Did I thank you yet for not looking at those?”_ She clasped her hands together dramatically and gazed up. _“Thank you for the love of every entity known by every sentient being amongst the stars.”_

 

Jim flinched back. “Was it that bad?”

 

_“It was more embarrassing, if anything. Don’t worry though - I did the Enterprise proud, didn’t I Spock?”_

 

Spock looked up from his mug. “Indeed, Nyota. Your actions were exemplary although there were some flaws that I believe could have been avoided with proper – “

 

Uhura interjected, _“You won’t say that when you come out of the SIM, Commander.”_ She jibed back, pointing at him as if she was going to come out of the screen.

 

Spock took another sip. “We shall find out.”

 

Although playful, the challenge was clear. Jim switched his gaze between the two before Uhura turned back to him.

 

 _“Here’s the thing. I was alone.”_ She said. _“You guys will be together. Some might say it’ll complicate things, but I think you guys have a better advantage than we had. All of us got a PASS and now it’s your turn. Keep us together.”_ She looked down.

 

Jim gulped and he heard Spock’s breath hitch. There was sympathy in those words.

 

“You all did the hard part.” Jim responded, his voice softer. “It’s our job to finish it, and we will. Although I don’t know the details - congratulations on your PASS Lieutenant. Our ship would most certainly not be the same without you.”

 

 _“It won’t be the same without you.”_ She grinned. “ _You two enjoy the remaining time you have. Goodnight Captain.”_ She gazed at Spock and nodded her head.

_“Commander.”_

 

The line disconnected, and Jim exhaled. He felt a sharp tug in his chest when he saw Spock looking mournful for what could possibly pass between them.

 

Jim reluctantly moved his hand to Spock’s upper arm, moving them closer. Spock showed no restraint and followed. Without thought, Jim rested his head on Spock’s shoulder as they sat side by side – the movie remained paused and snacks forgotten.

 

He could feel Spock’s breathing getting slower as he closed his eyes. The weight of Spock’s head leaning on top of his was a welcoming gesture. Jim found that he could stay like this forever.

 

“We have to prepare for the worst, Jim.” Spock started to move his hand up and down Jim’s arm.

 

With a movement that should have made Jim rigid, he sunk into it and hummed. “I don’t care.”

 

The movements stopped. “You should.”

 

“Doesn’t matter. Whatever happens – I’ll choose you.” He was stunned those words came out of his throat, but he did nothing to retract them.

 

Why would he?

 

He meant them.

 

And that was when he almost fell to the side. Spock stood up, and picked up the folded blanket on the edge of the couch. “You’re fatigued.” He said to the material instead of Jim.

 

Jim pressed his weight on his hands as he looked up at Spock. “No, I’m not.”

 

“Are you not aware of the meaning behind your words?” Spock continued to look at the blanket while unfolding it. “You cannot mean them.”

 

“Would you choose me?” Jim blurted out while standing up. He sat on the couch Spock would have lied down in, trying to prove his point, being as stubborn as he was. He couldn’t avoid it any longer. They were no longer Spock and Jim. Instead, they were a team that was conjoined together, and should they were ever to be separated, both would fall to their demise.

 

Spock switched his gaze from the blanket to the kitchen table in the other section of the apartment.

 

“If I failed and you didn’t, Spock - Would. You. Choose. Me?”

 

It was selfish, but he had to know.

 

“I – “ Spock sat down, his hands rubbing his lap a palm width away.

 

The weight next to Jim removed an ache that occurred from that small moment of separation. He found himself relaxing with anticipation. The humming of the air system was all that could be heard, besides Jim’s beating heart.

 

“I find the thought of leaving you to be impossible.” Spock finished, reluctantly looking up.

 

Jim didn’t know how they came to this. It was as if it was yesterday they argued, jibed, and counteracted each other with every opportunity available. Within the months, Spock branded his mind.

 

 

> _[Where is Spock?_
> 
> _Who is he with?_
> 
> _Is he coming today with Bones? Alone?_
> 
> _Would he eat this if I made it?_
> 
> _Is this carrying on too long? Should I excuse myself?]_

 

If heaven were consisted of little bubbles of his favorite moments, this would surely be one of them. His hand ghosted over Spock's knee and he kept it there, nodding his head. All he kept wondering to himself was when in that time did he fall, because he was in so deep, the light was only a speck in the sky.

He bit his bottom lip and inched away in a motion that was too quick to not notice.

 

Spock’s brows creased at the touch. “Jim …”

 

For the first time, a wave of lust hit him when Spock whispered his name as if it was the only thing he knew.

 

“Then whatever happens – “ Jim’s jaw tightened, trying to get out of his reverie. “We’ll be fine.”

 

He stood up.

 

Maybe it was a good idea to sleep.

 

“Jim?”

 

It hit him again. If he turned around, then surely Spock would see the wanting in his face.

They were both silent for a merciful moment. Spock was waiting for him to speak while Jim had no idea what to say anymore, his words vacuumed from his throat.

 

“You’re right, Spock.” He managed to say. “I’m tired.”

 

He couldn’t bear to look at Spock’s hesitation, rejection or even worse … hope.

Not with the SIM hours away.

He was a leader who sometimes had a flare for the dramatics, but he was also one who knew when to walk away.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own World War Z, Pacific Rim, Deep Impact or Independence Day. If I did, the endings would have been so, so different. I know I didn't mention them all by name, but just in case.
> 
> ~X


	19. SIM - PART TWELVE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Three updates yesterday and one long one today.  
> I have tests coming up. My house is shaking from these winds, and I'm still sick.  
> The next update won't be for at least another week, considering I have UNKNOWN to finish.  
> Warning: Angry Spock.  
> Song: Lost Soul - Cold Rush Remix by Christina Novelli, Roman Messer and NoMosk.  
> ~X  
> NOTE: This won't be in chronological order. Just a heads up.
> 
> Edited on - 02/07/17

**SIM - PART TWELVE  
**

 

Jim woke up to the smell of bleach attacking his nostrils. The comfortable temperature of the base was gone and replaced with colder winds. He was lying down, but it wasn’t in the comfort of his own bed.

He was greeted with bright fluorescent gleams penetrating his sensitive eyes. A hitched groan escaped his dried lips. “The Hell?”

“Not there yet, that’s for sure.”

With much effort, Jim turned his head to the side. He saw one long white rectangle, which happened to be Dr. Cardenas’ back. She was overlooking another body across from him. A couple blinks later, and the resolution cleared out.

The body she was tending to was actually Steven, whom looked as pale as ever.

Jim cleared his parched throat. “Is he okay?” He asked.

“He will be.” Dr. Cardenas declared, void of emotion. “Tell me, Jim? Did you tell Steven here that you had a preexisting condition before your kamikaze mission?”

He would have shook his head, but the ringing persisted. “If it’s kamikaze, would my condition have mattered?”

A gust of wind along with a clashing sound alerted all his senses. Dr. Cardenas slammed her PADD on the side counter with gritted teeth.

“Sass is the last thing I expect from a man who crashed in his room. A man who is lucky he didn’t fall in the main hallway – sparking panic.”

Jim had yet to do any of that – and for that, he was grateful.

“You’re better for now, although you sucked half of my supply.” The sympathy in her tone was easy to sense, despite her words. “I did my job, but another concern is if you’re going to live through Chief.”

“Spock?” Jim forced himself to raise his head up. Spock would kill him and Steven, and yet … “I need to – I want to see him.”

“Trust me. Not a good idea.” She tsked and resumed to check Steven’s scans.

The lights concentrated to the center of his vision, losing its corners by the second. It wasn't long before darkness took over again.

**.**

**.**

**.**

 

_The wind was knocked right out of Jim. This … well, this was the last thing he expected. Jim was trapped between a metal wall and a body that might as well have been made out of rock. Any attempt at movement would have been futile._

_He was so fucked._

_“Spock …”_

_Any other day, Jim would have liked this position – Heck, he eroticized it on occasion. In his mind, he would switch it around and use it to his advantage. This however, this was the worst way it could have gone. With Spock’s fists clenching his collar, those narrow eyes were not one of love or affection._

_Spock’s upper lip formed into a snarl, his features contorting by the sight of Jim’s face. “I should have left you.”_

_Jim internally reiterated those words without the hatred. That was the only way he would have accepted it. This was the man that picked him up from an abandoned craft that had coatings of animal saliva._

_He never claimed to follow a leader – not even the leader. But this was his Chief. This was Chief. What did that say about Jim?_

_Was it Jim’s growing feelings for the man, or was it a sign of his increasing weakness? His body was already weak, and now his mind was following. Either way, those words hurt more than the impact itself._

_And it shouldn’t have._

_“You don’t mean that.” He retorted with a shaky breath. Their eyes lingered, all compassion replaced with something Jim couldn’t see._

_He didn’t want to see it._

_Spock leaned further into Jim’s space, their foreheads almost touching. Those eyes have never been darker. “And that is where you are wrong. You know nothing of me.”_

_He knew that Spock let him in more than anyone in the base - More than council. He wasn’t blind about the friendship growing between them. Jim would have begged Spock to stop those piercing words if he weren’t so tired. This little whisper of Spock’s name was all his body would allow him to do. He couldn’t hear this, for it was doing more damage than all the days in the hot room filled with machines, sweat and tools._

 

_“I just wanted to help out.”_

_The next second consisted of his body falling to the ground after the sudden absence of the pressing weight. With a blink, he noticed Spock across the room from him. It was like Spock stepped away that fast because Jim disgusted him._

_He desired to say more, except he couldn’t see Spock’s face. He had no idea what Spock was thinking, and all he had to work with were the stiff bones of Spock’s back._

_He swallowed, then picked his body up so that he could stand like he had some dignity. “You were going to bury it, and we couldn’t risk– “_

_“We?” Spock turned back with a face of absolute disbelief. His eyes were squinted as he moved some of his hair away – his frustration evident. “You are not council. You do not have the authority to make those decisions. You are no longer alone. Your decisions, as reckless as they are, now affect everybody in this base … and yet you believe to be in the right?”_

_Jim refused to back down. He wasn’t some criminal, dammit._

 

_“I am right.”_

_“You are selfish!”_

 

**.**

**.**

**.**

 

With much persistence, Jim managed to let Dr. Cardenas release him. He’d been there for three days and there wasn’t a single visit from Spock. If there was a slight tug of his chest, he ignored it. He wasn’t hurt that Spock never visited.

 

Not. At. All.

 

After the first night, he stopped asking for the Chief in order to avoid looking like some neglected wife. He wasn’t disappointed. He wasn’t some clingy friend or lover either, so why bother?

 

Steven was already released, and Jim managed to catch a couple glimpses of Adriana here and there. Both him and Steven would need consistent care, but it was no longer necessary to stay in the medical room.

 

The medical room had its own personal shower, so Jim indulged in that after Dr. Cardenas insisted that she needed to make sure that he wouldn’t fall. 

 

He used a mouthwash after he cleaned himself, and the dissolving scent of bleach honestly made him better.

 

Once Jim came out, he walked right into something – it was sort of hard and squishy at the same time – what kind of material was this?

 

“I knew you’d try to get outta there. Good thing I’m here, Lightrunner.”

 

He blinked a few times, and was met with dark brown eyes accompanied by a wide smile with the sharpest canine teeth he’d ever seen.

 

“Hey, Markus.” He mumbled while rubbing his eyes with the soles of his palms.

 

“M'fraid I gotta take you to my room.”

 

“Why not _my_ room?” Jim asked, clearly confused and somehow too tired to sincerely care.

 

Markus wrapped one of his big arms around Jim’s shoulder and pulled him in. Jim was led down the corridor soon after. It was weird. The lights were brighter, and the constant clashing humming he would normally hear from the walls were dimmed to almost nothing.

 

“I’ll fill you in when we get there.” Markus looked round with a swift glance. “How you feelin'?”

 

“You’ve seen me worse.” Jim tried to joke under his breath.

 

Markus nodded with a wide smile, although Jim could still see the concern behind it. “True.”

 

Jim looked at him, feeling the ground become unstable underneath his feet. He followed the council member while avoiding the blaring stares. Katherine covered her mouth once she noticed them, later shooing the children away. The teenagers on the other hand whispered, taking turns to glance at Jim like he was some mystical being. It was like his first night here all over again.

 

The urge to cover himself washed over, so he instead crossed his arms until he entered a room he’d only been in once before.

 

He walked past Anastasia and crashed on  a bed he didn’t know whom it belonged to. “I need to see Steven.” He muttered.

 

“Steven’s in his room.” Anastasia answered, slowly walking around the bed with her hands on her hips. “You’re lucky you’re here, instead of your room. You have two people after your head.”

 

It didn’t take a genius to know that it was Karim and Spock.

 

“I was one of them,” Ana declared with a whisper. “But I understand.”

 

“Good, ‘cause I can’t handle that right now.”

 

 

**.**

**.**

**.**

  
 

_He was selfish?_

_Selfish?_

_This had to be the most selfless thing he’d ever done._

_Staying with Camp Salvatus was selfish. However, trying to guarantee the foundation of Warehouse 15 was not freakin’ selfish._

_Had Spock officially lost it?_

_Jim cocked his head, his nose scrunched up. His brows met as he squared his shoulders. This energy that he somehow had was purely fueled by anger. “Well excuse me for giving a shit!”_

_It was crazy for Spock to flinch back like that. Was the man honestly expecting him to keep quiet? Was he that used to compliance?_

_“Is that what you tell yourself to justify your actions? You are deliberately lying to not only me, but to yourself.”_

_“You know what – “ Jim stepped forward, his caution of Spock’s emotion shoved into an abandoned corner. “This is my body, and I have the right to do whatever the hell I want with it.”_

_“Selfish.” Spock repeated with a hiss, prowling closer as the frustration between them increased their magnetic force._

_“Delusional.” Jim jibed back._

_Spock’s right eye twitched. “Remorseless.” He snapped._

_Damn right he had zero guilt for what he did. Was that supposed to be some type of insult? Well he had a better one, and he didn’t hold back._

 

_“Fucking infuriating!”_

_His raised voice caused Spock to wince in his spot. He was sure people heard them outside, and he wanted them to all know that their Chief was attempting to make him feel bad about trying to help them._

_“You only did this so you could validate your existence.”_

_Jim couldn’t stop himself from gaping at Spock. He never needed validation for his stupid existence. He was putting his stupid existence to use._

_This wasn’t for his ego, and it clawed at his gut that Spock would think that._

_“Steven obeyed my orders until you came along and seduced death!”_

_In an instant, Jim became expressionless. He paced back; not believing that the man he was talking to was Spock. The exit was right behind him. Retreating wasn’t a method he normally partook in, however he didn’t have a choice with this one. He had to go before he said something he regretted, or Spock said something that Jim could never turn back from._

_What if they did too much damage to each other? Each word was a stab, and one of them would give the fatal blow._

_He turned back and put his hand on the door wall. When the door refused to slide away, he felt a presence floating inches from his back. He looked ahead to see another hand plastered on the metal right above his palm, halting the door to open._

 

_“We are not done.”_

 

**.**

**.**

**.**

 

Jim’s hands slackened on the sheets. He didn’t know how long he slept there until he felt a cold cup caress his cheek.

 

“Here’s some water.”

 

Markus’ deep voice was enough to remind him of where he was. The council member stepped back, and soon, both him and Anastasia were immersed back in their whispers.

 

Jim didn’t care about what they were talking about. He just wanted to know why he was here. “Listen – What time is it?”

 

“0642. Today's lockdown is in thirty minutes, so we just have to hold on for that long.” Anastasia quipped.

 

Why did they have to hold on for lockdown?

 

“Good.” He answered anyways. “I think I’ll get some fresh air then.” It was a good idea. He was getting too claustrophobic in this metal cocoon of a home. Unfortunately, when he started to get up, he was pushed right back down. “You guys need to seriously stop handling me like a puppet.” He tsked. He would have pushed back if he had more strength.

 

Jim looked up and was met with dismissal.

 

“Can’t let you do that.”

 

“And why not, Markus?” Jim groaned while rubbing his temples. A headache was growing despite the fact that he just took his medication. Maybe he would have to go back to those hyposhots instead of the pills.

 

But he really hated those things digging into his neck like that.

 

“Let’s just say that the last thing we need is for Chief to find you.”

 

Jim scoffed. “He knew where I was for the last three days.”

 

Anastasia marched to him in three large strides, and settled on the floor with her knees. “And who do you think stopped him from coming?” She said as she tilted her head.

 

He exchanged glances with both of them. “Why?”

 

“So many reasons.” Markus shook his head and sat on the other bed.

 

Jim’s thoughts were a hurricane of doubt and perplexity. The silence that floated in the room taunted him to assume the worst. Even if it was the worst, what was the worst Spock could do?

 

Dr. Cardenas informed him that his _stunt_ was a success.

 

A success.

 

He would relish in that later. He couldn’t have been more exasperated. Another rugged groan escaped his mouth. There was nothing he could do but to crash down on the sheets again.

 

**.**

**.**

**.**

 

_The presence behind him had an eerie aura. This was only because it was hard to discern Spock’s emotions._

_Obviously Spock wouldn’t hurt him …_

_Okay, that slam to the wall wasn’t necessary in the least, but there wasn’t going to be any more. Shivers jolted through his fragile body when the whisper of his name floated above his throat._

_He had to admit, he had fantasies of being this close, emotions running wild, except in this moment, they were all derived from the wrong emotions._

_“I can leave whenever I want.” Jim declared in a voice he was shocked to have stayed firm._

_The weight behind him was getting heavier and his breaths lost its steady rhythm. He felt Spock move his head a few inches up, those lips dancing around his earlobes._

_Jim hissed from the sudden sensation._

_“I apologize for assuming that you might obtain some form of logic. Clearly you feel compelled to do whatever it is you wish.”_

_Bitter sarcasm. That was a new one for Spock._

_The urge to turn to the voice was deafening. In the end, Jim gave in and switched his position to look right into those intimidating eyes. “Considering our circumstances, it was the logical thing to do.”_

_“Conducting a proper plan was the logical thing to do.” Spock jibed back. “We could have retrieved the generator when we were prepared.” Every word Spock spoke carried confusion. Confusion as to why Jim would act this way._

_In a swift movement, Spock had both palms on each side of Jim’s space. There was no room to move. He was forced into confrontation._

_Jim darted his eyes away. He couldn’t bear to see Spock like this. “I’m not going to apologize.”_

_“If this was the inevitable route, I would have gladly taken it.” Spock dropped his voice, once again leaning further, making his presence known. Whether the half-Vulcan knew of it or not, the motion could have been determined as many things. “This was not your responsibility.”_

_Jim flinched slightly. “Now it’s you who knows nothing of me, Spock.”_

_“Then make me understand why you are so eager to leave this world?” Spock’s eyes lifted up, his reluctance apparent._

_“...what?” He gulped. Is that what Spock thought? That he wanted to leave this world?_

 

_News flash – everyone wanted to leave this world._

_The bewilderment of Spock’s query slapped Jim across the face as he blinked a couple times too many. Instead of answering, he lifted his palms near Spock’s purview. As expected, it trembled a bit and not from fear._

_It was involuntary. It was his norm. Spock stared at it, his eyes unmoving from the limbs. When Jim placed his hands back down, Spock flickered his questioning gaze back at him._

_The guts inside him twisted, sparking a pounding pain. Spock had too much of an effect on him. It didn’t matter how he felt, Spock was base leader – Chief – therefore more needed and valuable._

_He didn’t think of himself as dispensable … just the more logical person to do this. He didn’t want to leave this world in a way that required his death. But if the time came – he found that he wouldn’t mind._

 

_“You just met me, Spock.” He managed to express. “You shouldn’t care this much.”_

_A sharp exhale escaped Spock’s lips as he shut his eyes, lifting his palms away from the metal surface. Spock’s shoulders drooped down, a subtle frown forming on his face._

_Jim realized that Spock wasn’t actually angry at him, but at the situation at hand._

_And now, all that anger was replaced with sorrow._

 

 

**.**

**.**

**.**

  
 

“Shit.” Anastasia shifted on the floor, moving away from the door. “What if he comes?”

 

Jim rolled his eyes, ignoring the army of dread that was actively building a wall inside him. “He’s not King Kong.”

 

“You should have seen what he did to Steven.” Markus physically shivered. “Lockdown’s in seven minutes.” He then stated. “We should be fine.”

 

And that was when they heard the knock on the door. This moment was parallel to the time when the President told everyone to remain calm, only for the situation to descend to fiery crackling hell.

 

“Hello?” Anastasia raised her voice with a false sense of cheer.

 

“I will only ask this once.” Spock’s voice vibrated through the door, and Jim inched back in his bed, instantly internally judging himself for the absurdity. This was Spock – not a damn burning light from the sky.

 

His mind betrayed him by playing flashes of Spock deforming a punching back with immense emotion. Jim would've been stupid to not notice.

 

“Is Jim inside the premises? Dr. Cardenas informed me of his release.”

 

Markus jerked up from his bed. “I think he returned to his room, Chief.”

 

The lie was delivered perfectly. Jim bit his lip and everyone looked at the other, patiently waiting for a response.

 

Within a couple seconds, they heard footsteps stepping back.

 

When they all relieved a sigh, a humming of the walls sang, making them jump.

 

A mumbled request was heard from the other side of the door. “Computer … how many occupants remain in Room 5B?”

 

Markus cringed just when Anastasia’s eyes flew open.

 

The Universe hated him.

 

_Three heat signatures detected within Room 5B._

_Identification 'unknown'._

_Program update required._

 

“What the hell?” Markus muttered, staring right at the ceiling as if something would come out and grab him. This was obviously the first time they heard it.

 

“You see – With the new generator in place, we can afford to run programs and features we previously thought unnecessary and consuming. I already have begun the first stages of the installations.”

 

The old training facility was in full swing.

 

Jim smacked his forehead.

 

“Now – either you open this door, or I ask the computer to open it. The choice is yours.” The tone was authoritative, and that usual hint of safety was diminished.

 

Markus walked to the door without looking at Jim or Anastasia. He breathed in one moment, then moved the door to the side.

 

“Are you sure about this?” Jim heard Markus whisper. “He could really use some time, Chief.”

 

Spock stood still, his coat still on. He looked down at his own wrist, twisting it with a low crack. He was in black from head to toe. He wasn’t just void of color, but his presence sucked it in.

 

Sucked it in like a black hole.

 

“Although not needed, I appreciate your concern. I have never inflicted harm on anyone in this base, and I do not intend to start now.”

 

Sharp eyes flickered in Jim’s direction, and his breath hitched.

 

“I only wish to speak to Jim.”

 

Jim now understood why the council members acted the way they did. This wasn’t a good idea.

 

Spock faced them again. “Now, please.”

 

Anastasia gave Jim an unapologetic look, getting up to leave. They gave up so easily, but wouldn’t Jim do the same thing in their position? Spock's voice was a hypnotic tune.

 

“We’ll be right outside.” Anastasia mouthed behind Spock’s back before the door shut right after.

 

Jim carefully stood up from his bed and walked to the corner when Spock got closer.

 

“Listen, I know you’re mad – “

 

Spock gaze roved over Jim’s entire body. “Markus and Anastasia – you two can remain in my room during lockdown.”

 

Shit – the lockdown.

 

“Spock – “ Jim heard Markus’ filtered voice outside the door. “That’s not a good idea, man.”

 

Spock sighed. “Computer - Lock Room 5B.”

 

The click of the door was what made Jim finally gulp.

 

“Computer, begin base wide countdown for timed lockdown.”

 

_Commencing countdown._

_Five minutes and forty-two seconds._

_Five minutes and forty-one seconds._

Jim knew that the council members left as soon as the monotone lady spoke.

 

“Whatever you want to say, Spock.” Jim huffed. “Just spit it out.”

 

This time, Spock closed the distance between them. It was too fast for Jim to notice, he was actually startled. “Tell me, Jim – How are you feeling?” Spock tilted his head, speaking in a clinical manner.

 

Jim answered the only way he thought appropriate. “Better.”

 

“Good.”

 

Spock’s fingers wounded around his collar, and the slam to the wall might as well have been a kick in the chest.

 

**.**

**.**

**.**

 

_Jim now had the opportunity to move away, but like the reckless idiot Spock thought him to be, he moved closer to the source of all his irritation – the advantage of space flying away in vain._

_“Perhaps I am in need of interpretation, since I am finding it increasingly difficult to comprehend your meaning.” Spock admitted, sounding a bit defeated._

_Wasn’t it obvious?_

_“There’s a difference between me doing this and you doing this.” Jim pointed to him. “At the end of the day, whether you believe it or not, it was my decision. Just because you saved me, doesn’t mean you own me.”_

_“Do you not care for your life?” It was as if Spock was questioning his sanity._

_Only Jim had the right to question his own brain._ _“Of course I care!”_

_“Just not enough.” Spock finished for him._

_Jim couldn’t have stopped what Spock did next. Warmth that mimicked that of the sun wrapped him and just as quickly as it came, it shattered, leaving him completely null of happiness._

 

_They both stood in the middle of the room, and Jim couldn’t believe Spock was touching him. Not just a simple touch, but he was holding both sides of Jim’s neck as he broke the space between them._

_The very feeling started a shudder as those thumbs caressed his already sensitive skin. How could something so soothing, feel so … horrible -_

_His gut fell, and his eyes clenched shut. It was the same pain he experienced in his old home after Spock and him separated their hands, but intensified to levels he feared he wouldn’t be able to handle._

_What was this?_

_He felt Spock’s words on his lips. “You say I should not care too much.”_

_Jim quickly grabbed Spock by the shirt, fisting the soft material, while holding on to prevent himself from crashing to the floor. He was trembling from a feeling that was not his._

_The purpose to his soul became nonexistent._

_“Then how do I stop, Jim?” Spock confessed, his voice slowing down as he whispered a question that came out so incredibly raw._

_This feeling that engulfed him whole … it was complete and utter terror._

_This is what he did to Spock. He brought Spock into the tightest hug he could conjure and buried his face in the crook of Spock’s nape._

_To think he could do this to a man he thought was made of steel. Spock was perfect, but his core was on the verge of crumbling from Jim’s mere actions._

_Jim wasn’t sorry for what he did, but he was so fucking sorry for making Spock feel this threatening weight that brought more fear than the lights or what could possibly follow._

_He had to make amends. A part of him wanted to step away, step away from the gusts of undeniable trepidation, except he had to accept his actions. The bridge between them flowed all the forms of apologies he could transfer._

_He thought he had no one that would mourn his death – he was so, so wrong._

_Spock made a noise in his throat and held on tighter – He was listening._

_With fingers still on his neck, moving up to caress his facial hair and skin, he moved back until their noses brushed together. There was an indisputable alluring energy that captivated them._

 

_This would be the part when he would question his intentions. Normally, this would be the part where he would take the time to think of the consequences. Normally, he would be absolutely sure._

_However, things weren’t normal anymore._

_He placed his lips against Spock’s, chastely with nervousness._

_They were bound together in so many ways; Jim was honestly ashamed for not doing this sooner. One hand cupped up to his cheek right when Spock responded in such delectable ways, his whole body felt it._

_Spock’s moan resonated through him, and Jim craved to hear it more and more – if this became his nightly lullaby, he would never acknowledge the day._

_The red flashes highlighted Spock’s features for brief moments as they separated for the air he came to hate. They immediately locked their lips again, moving desperate and wet, lockdown ensuing around them._

_All wariness vanished as he buried his fingers into Spock’s think hair._

_It was one thing to know they were already soft from mere sight, but the strands that trickled between fingers were that of silk, and Jim grasped a fistful of it._

_Spock gasped from the contact, so Jim took advantage of the parted mouth and used his tongue to trace a mouth he was dedicated to memorize._

_There was no more hiding, for the contact shuddered through them, breaking all opaque glass. Nothing was uncertain and therefore nothing clumsy like how any first encounter would be._

_Jim sensed what worked for Spock, and it only made him eager to discover so much more. Just as he wanted, another moan escaped Spock’s mouth as he bit down on Spock’s lower lip – viciousness still beating from the fading anger._

_Their hands were on a journey to discover as much of the other as possible while they breathed into eachother's mouths, a scent of blended herbs and harsh mints converging together._

_Jim stepped forward, forcing Spock to step back until he was the one whom had Spock pinned. He ducked his head and kissed under Spock’s jaw, sensing the prickles of new growth._

_“I’ll never leave you.” He promised, hoping Spock was feeling it just as much as hearing it._

_The terror dwindled, but it still remained in the corners of their link. Jim knew that this was the best he could hope for right now. Something so strong couldn’t disappear in the blink of an eye. He wanted to prove to Spock that he understood, that he cared, and he that wanted to love._

 

_There was more pressure on Jim’s shoulders as Spock clung on, lifting his neck for more exposure._

_Spock wanted this just as much as him._

_He tasted Spock’s throat, licking up to below Spock’s ears, pushing their bodies together in a grinding motion. Spock had a hard time speaking while doubling on Jim’s lust._

_Another groan ignited, and Jim didn’t know whom it came from. He panted as he placed a knee between Spock’s legs, rubbing, teasing._

_“Ji – “ Spock tried to say his name with eyes closed, his jaw weakened from the unexpected pressure._

_“Open your eyes.” He whispered near the ears he’d wanted to lick for long._

_Jim was met with the most naked emotion he had the privilege of seeing._

_In a world so dysfunctional, Spock was the most perfect thing he knew he would ever come across. Spock captured his mouth in response, holding on tighter._

_Jim widened his eyes from the strength of it. He then stilled his movements, taking in the sudden feelings. The yearning was an … it was an old one._

_Older than he had ever expected._

_Older than what was possible._

_“You wanted me.” He whispered his revelation._

_“So much that it has become an essential part of me.” Spock hesitantly confessed. Jim understood why Spock was reluctant by it._

_It was because it was insane. This wasn’t some romance novel, love at first sight nonsense. It was a universal tug, forcing the two to gravitate towards the other. He couldn’t pinpoint when it was, but he was sure they both lost their sanity together._

_They said they knew nothing of the other, but …_

_"It almost feels like – “_

_“We fit.” Spock completed for him, softly pecking the tip of Jim’s nose to his hairline._

  **.**

**.**

**.**

 

The humming in the SIM medical room filled the silence. No one dared to speak when Spock finally entered the room.

 

_“Whatever you want to say, Spock.” Jim huffed. “Just spit it out.”_

_“Tell me, Jim – How are you feeling?”_

_“Better.”  
_

_“Good.”_

 

Leonard flinched back when he saw Spock practically slam Jim to the wall.

“Jesus Christ.” He uttered right when the rest of group gasped.

 

“I knew he was mad, but… I didn’t expect this reaction.” Another stuttered with apparent confusion.

 

Leonard understood exactly why Spock was mad. Hell, he wanted Spock to do something about Jim’s rash decision. This however, he wasn’t prepared for.

When Spock prevented Jim from leaving the room, Leonard breathed in and stared at a concerned M’Benga.

Spock’s already been through a similar scenario, but this reaction was nothing like before. The Commander had someone to take out his anger on last time. Last time, there was a villain.

 

This time – Spock was challenging Jim, because of Jim.

 

It was fitting that he confronted this emotion to Jim.

 

He’d seen them bicker before, but this was to a new level and frankly, Leonard had no idea that things would take this sharp turn. He assumed Spock would direct everything into a tight bottle that was constantly threatening to combust from the pressure.

He realized in that moment that this Spock didn’t bother with that bottle. SIM Spock chucked that bottle and let it fall into the abyss.

 

_“Well excuse me for giving a shit!”_

_“Is that what you tell yourself to justify your actions? You are deliberately lying to not only me, but to yourself!”_

“Kirk should be reasoning with him – not provoking him.” M’Benga stated, low enough for only Leonard’s ears. “It’s like they’re doing it deliberately.”

_“You know what – “_

 

Jim stepped closer to Spock when he should have taken advantage of the space. Stupid move.

 

_“This is my body, and I have the right to do whatever the hell I want with it.”_

 

“If Spock is going to give Jim a reality check, I cosign it.” Leonard said, his eyes still glued to the screen.

 

“You have to understand Kirk’s intentions.” M’Benga added, circling around Spock’s body as the machines sang again. And man was it blaring loud. “I do.”

 

“I understand too. Doesn’t mean I can't be mad about it.” He felt what Spock felt at the moment. It was his anger as well.

_“Selfish.”_

Damn it all. They were like magnets.

_“Delusional.”_

“This is getting worse, …” Dr. Lee mentioned.

 

The rest of the team muttered their agreements.

_“Remorseless.”_

 

Leonard could see Spock’s twitch. It was what the hobgoblin did when he wanted to keep in his words.  

“The Captain’s not going to leave the base right? He won’t survive out there again. His SIM would be over.”

 

“Chief’s never – I mean Mr. Spock wouldn’t kick him out. He can’t. Kirk was the one who found out about the lights being weapons."

 

“Let them vent. It’s well deserved. The Captain scared me, and I’m in the real world!”

 

“Kirk should be resting. This is far from ideal.”

 

“Look – the Captain’s – “

_“Fucking infuriating!”_

They all dropped their jaws at Jim’s outburst, Leonard immediately shushing everybody up. An argument was one thing, however, he knew that everyone was stunned simply because this was Spock. No one spoke to the Commander like that.

 

Leonard shook his head. He then turned around to the rest of the team, and asked if they could leave the room. The shuddering agitation was evident through the SIM, but as much as he tried to deny it – he saw more.

 

With just him and M’Benga in the room, they could look over the bodies and hopefully there would be no emergencies until this diffused.

 

“McCoy, look at this.” M’Benga urged his co-worker.

 

They both saw Spock touching Jim for the first time since their first encounter. The survivors were sucked into a trance.

 

“They’re – are they talking to each other?!” Leonard blurted out.

 

M’Benga nodded. “I feel they might need privacy soon.” The doctor grabbed his PADD and fell into his seat.

 

Leonard felt too old. He’d seen multiple SIMs – therefore many acts were displayed in his view. It was his job, except these were also his friends.

 

“How did it come to this?” He asked himself. The question was a rhetorical one, for he knew that his Captain and Commander were inevitable.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~X


	20. SIM - PART THIRTEEN

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More SIM action.  
> Song: Pocket Full of Dreams by Hedley  
> Much love,  
> ~X

** SIM - PART THIRTEEN**

 

  

“It is time to commence Round Two evaluations.”

Admiral Archer walked into the conference room after another couple hours without sleep, covering his yawn. Time was going too fast in THE SIMULATION, however they all agreed that it was necessary to evaluate them together, instead of separately and just reading reports.

One person could easily misconstrue a situation; hence giving an opinion that could taint the others before evaluations could take place. As a cadet, he’d heard that this was done multiple times from his professors. No one spoke of it out loud of course.

Unfortunately, with their desire to be efficient and avoid compromising data, it also meant that their sleep schedules were worse than those working in the SIM Med room and the SIM Ops. At least those teams could exchange shifts … except for the team leaders such as Dr. M’Benga – Dr. McCoy – Commander Tinibu – Lt. Lyn.

This must have been hard on them as well.

Commander Tinibu & Lt. Lyn served on the USS Xīwàng so they had front row seats to their commanding team break apart.

Now it was Dr. M’Benga and Dr. McCoy and instead, they were watching their commanding team becoming extremely … close.

After Kirk and Spock's altercation, they decided to let the SIM operatives continue time in a normal manner so that they could sleep. Sleep was only allowed when the SIM was switched to censor mode, which was surprisingly not much despite this generation’s fluid ways. Then again, who thought about sex in trying times?

When the screens returned, they realized that the commanding team still had their clothes on. Spock and Kirk didn’t do much per se … they were just cuddling. The Captain’s snoring was the first thing to come through before visuals.

Their shock from the other day was derived from the fact that they fully expected to use the censor mode for Kirk, but not for Kirk _and_ Spock … or any situation including Spock really.

Their closeness was the symbol of how harsh this SIM came to be. Archer knew that the adjustments to the program weren’t enough. Spock, who was mostly surrounded by good people, sought comfort in a man he just met.

It seriously made them question if anything took place before. Their chemistry wasn’t just some imaginary force, but a tangible spike in medical records.

 

“Round Four is ready to begin. All those in favor for the PASS of Captain James Kirk in Round Two say ‘Aye’.”

 

‘Aye’ the room answered in unison.

 

“All those in favor for the PASS of Commander Spock in Round Two say ‘Aye’.”

 

They gave him the expected answer. In his opinion, they had no choice. Kirk’s conclusion about the lights, completely insane risks, Spock’s leadership and initiative to eliminate the weapons were all noted and commended. It was because of Kirk that Round Four was going to take place instead of Round Three.

 

Round Three was supposed to include warehouse failure that would have resulted in a large amount of data, detailing Spock’s determination and tactics to keep his crew … to keep this base alive. They would have seen how Kirk and Spock operated in immense stress.

Honestly, Kirk was the one who gave Spock the automatic PASS.

This was all just a shortcut to Archer anyways for he knew that Spock would have prevented the failure eventually. There would have been more complications considering Spock thoroughly being aware that he needed to be alive to keep the base in control and safe, but again, Kirk took care of that.

Kirk also understood that his success would not have been possible without Steven. Archer wondered if Spock would have allowed Steven’s aid or anyone’s for that matter…

 

Archer concluded Round Two for the record. “Moving on – I have taken the liberty to dismiss Dr. McCoy’s request for another meeting.”

 

“That’s fine. We already gave him an answer, Archer.” Lui dismissively waved her hand, the lack of sleep showing on her face.

 

Archer nodded, He had to agree. The doctor’s plea to turn off the SIM wouldn’t benefit Kirk in the long run. The request was one derived of pure emotion and an obligation out of friendship.

After Dr. McCoy’s petition to medically clear Captain Kirk a couple months ago, they were in extreme doubt. The long-term effects had too many variables thus being unpredictable. The risk for letting Kirk on a ship again was one they could not handle. Kirk was not aware, but he was actually cleared with probation.

 

It was unfortunate, because he knew the reality of it. The reality would be a mission filled with Kirk's actions and decisions returning to them that would normally be a result of something unfortunate or just mistakes out of Kirk's control – and it would always be interpreted as having to do with his near death experience. Kirk would have inevitably been asked to resign.

To avoid a mess on both sides, Archer had to play the devil. He suggested that Kirk would be cleared without the probation if he could not just survive, but function in the SIM with worst case health scenario, hence the seizures, tremors and lack of muscular mobility.

He wanted, no – he needed this commanding team to strive, because they were one of the best.

 

If they got out of this one despite all the disadvantages thrown at them, not the Admirals or anyone promoted high enough to have an influence, could discredit them. Not even after his death.

 

Komack stood up. “Before we begin Round Four, I believe we have something important to discuss.”

 

They all stared at the frowning Admiral.

 

“I can't ignore Edmond Dhar’s presence in this city any longer.”

 

Archer internally smiled when the rest cringed and let out a sigh of exasperation. He remembered Mr. Dhar vividly. Last he heard, the lawyer was in Spain. If the lawyer was here again then that fed the possibility that Mr. Dhar was temporarily out of retirement, which could only mean one thing.

It was a huge breath of fresh air. With SIM protocol, Archer’s veto didn’t count. They should have listened to him. Soon, they would wish they did.

 

“Mr. Dhar could be here for any number of reasons.” Archer interjected, leaving the topic for another discussion.

 

He lied through his teeth.

 

“If there is anything that needs our attention, it is Round Four.”

 

Within moments, Commander Tinibu gazed at them from the holo-screen, waiting to receive the order.

 

.

.

.

 

One would expect that after their ‘talk’ last night that it would result in some passionate lovemaking or whatever. Jim wasn’t kidding when he said he was tired enough to slumber for eternity. Spock understood that they had to put their desires to the side. Instead he slept next to Spock’s warm body. What he didn’t expect was to wake up on Spock’s chest, in the small bed, which was most probably Anastasia’s if his memory proved correct. God, he remembered that he snored.

His legs must have decided for themselves and sometime in the night, rested over Spock’s thighs, his face in the crook of Spock’s neck. At least he wasn’t shaking uncontrollably.

The red alarms never came, so he could guess that it was way past his usual time to wake up. It was sort of funny because he fully expected the council to barge in here, demanding for their room back.

His limbs were an unmovable, heavy, separate part of him. All he could do was nudge his head up and look at the man that made him feel things one wouldn’t expect at the end of the world.

Spock’s hair waved along the wrinkles of the bed blankets like ripples of the ocean, revealing those ears when the black curtains would otherwise hide them.

It was kind of scary. All he had to care about was himself – then he met Urain, and that turned into a traumatic experience. He could still hear her yells as those people dragged her out into the fiery night.

And here he was, in a base of people he cared about with an unshakable core just under him, breathing in slow rhythms, unaware of Jim’s movements. There was Spock, all fear and scorn abandoned from his features – in a silent peace.

Jim placed his head back down on Spock’s soft shirt, dragging his hand to Spock’s chest. He carefully moved it lower until he felt the thumping of Spock’s heart. It relaxed him as he closed his eyes again.

 

. 

.

.

  
 

Leonard drank his water while watching the news on his PADD.

Mr. Dhar was a short, old man who revived himself from retirement after the constant berating of reporters since his arrival to San Francisco. The lawyer was part of the team that stopped THE SIMULATION testing, claiming it as inhumane and unnecessary. If Leonard had any say in it, the stupid old man should have resurfaced earlier.

 

M’Benga listened from the other side of the room. “You think he’s going to do it again?” He asked. “I was informed that he might gather those that have got a PASS with trauma or those that have got a FAIL on unjustified premises.”

 

Maybe he was being a pessimist for thinking that no officer would claim damage of any kind without the fear of being reprimanded. If Mr. Dhar wished to get rid of the program, he would have to do it alone. It was a different time - different days, and different people with more to lose this time. The SIMs were being conducted with officers who have completed half of their careers already. No way would they sabotage it.

McCoy shook his head as he looked at the SIM screen above and saw Karim put on his shoes. The kid walked out the second the lights flashed, seconds before Clayton began his post.

In the other screen, he saw Jim dozing off on Spock’s chest in the council members’ room. It would take hours before anyone noticed anything.

 

“It doesn’t matter what Mr. Dhar does.” Leonard sighed. He thought of the commanding team of USS Xīwàng and shivered. “The damage is done, M’Benga.”

 

Some of Jim’s permanent damage was heightened in the SIM, and if Jim wanted to continue as Captain – he would have to prove that he could preform despite the disadvantages. It wasn’t life threatening, but it was enough to make McCoy clench his teeth. His plea was used against him and he was a fool for being sucked in it.

 

“Kirk and Spock should have been exempt from this.” M’Benga commented. The doctor couldn’t have been anymore right. They had nothing to prove to anyone.

 

Leonard huffed. “We all deserve proper therapists on every ship after this is over.”

 

“Or…” M’Benga began. “You could inform the Captain of your experience. I’m still surprised you haven’t told him.”

 

That was a train of thought Leonard refused to ride one. “It’s my business, M’Benga.”

 

“And? You’re literally watching every detail of their business.” M’Benga retorted. “He will come to you. The Commander might even come to you. They may come to us, and we have to be there, because no therapist will understand like we do.”

 

Leonard hated his co-worker’s logic. For now, he had to make sure Jim and Spock even received a PASS before he could think about dealing with the aftermath.

He glanced up and saw Jim’s plastic friend. Bud took up all three SIM screens before switching to Anastasia and Markus arguing, wondering if they should enter their room yet.

 

Suddenly, the screens went black.

The alarm was one he heard only once every program.

It was too early.

 

“It’s too early.” M’Benga grabbed his PADD, echoing Leonard’s thoughts.

 

That scared voice on the other end of the SIM Ops line answered his call _. “McCoy … hello again.”_

 

“Did someone forget to read? Did someone press the wrong damn button?!” He didn’t miss M’Benga’s slight flinch from his outburst.

 

_“uh … Round Three has been eliminated, sir.”_

 

“The Captain needs time!” Jim was just getting better. “The Commander needs time!” Spock’s mind wasn’t even his anymore.

 

The SIM operator struggled to speak _“Doctor, there is nothing I can – “_

 

“They need time!” He interrupted, not understanding this fuckery.

 

Another calmer voice took over _. “Dr. McCoy.”_ Commander Tinibu said.

 

“How are _you_ doing this?” Leonard answered to the SIM Ops leader. “You know how unprepared they are. Round Four ruined your commanding team for God’s sake!”

 

“McCoy…” M’Benga walked to him and whispered caution.

 

_“Dr. McCoy, I fully understand your concerns. If it is any reconciliation, I am sorry. Think about it this way, the SIM will conclude faster.”_

 

Spock and Jim were too weak. “They could FAIL because we sped this up.”

_“Captain Kirk was the one who sped up the process by fixing the generator. We have not expected this scenario to be eliminated. The Commander believed it to be a year before shut down, but it was in fact two weeks.”_

 

M’Benga was the one who chimed in this time. “Commander, forgive me, but did you just say that Commander Spock calculated _incorrectly_?”

 

Commander Tinibu answered. “ _His calculation was based on the belief that everything would remain normal.”_

 

“Why wouldn’t it remain normal?” Leonard questioned. In seconds, he realized why it wouldn’t remain normal. He exchanged a look with M’Benga. “You were going to sabotage it.” He concluded.

 

 _“It doesn’t matter now.”_ Tinibu avoided the accusation. _“All that matters is that we do our part, and you do yours. They’re going to need you.”_

 

The line ended.

 

Leonard allowed himself a moment to wipe his face. He then ran out and went into the room where the rest of the team was waiting.

 

“Break time’s over!” Hell, break times never existed during this round.

 

All of them jumped up and followed him back into the room. Their mouths were open in aw when they saw the black screens and heard the alarm. They all got into position and whispered amongst themselves of how such a thing was impossible.

 

“We need to prepare ourselves.” M’Benga sharply ordered. “We will soon find out if they deserve that PASS.”

 

The dark screens resumed the SIM. Immediately, Leonard noticed the flickering lights in the building three hours away. He now knew that they were undeniable signs of inhabitation.

Jim and Spock’s pale bodies slept on in both worlds, unaware that their peace was becoming limited.

 

“Let the shit storm begin then.”

 

. 

.

.

 

 

> _Throughout the years, we have created many methods to tap into the human mind – heck a mind of any Federation being since communication became less of an issue._
> 
> _What is the norm? What is not the norm, and most importantly, what is one hiding?_
> 
> _Despite what you may believe, I do believe that we should understand the people we value with hundreds of lives, and that’s not only for Starfleet, but that goes for anyone of authority._
> 
> _Whenever asked, I always say the same thing. Why do our world leaders never participate in THE SIMULATON?_
> 
> _The answer to this is simple. It’s because they know. They know the damage it does. Who wants a traumatized world leader? No one. However the majority of Admiralty doesn’t have any qualms about traumatized officers whom we know for a fact are a important part of our society. Considering recent events alone, there have been two occurrences that almost resulted in our deaths if not for them._
> 
> _‘Till this day, I find it impossible to believe that THE SIMULATION is a beneficial practice. Granted, it does weed out those we should not allow in Starfleet, but it’s a shortcut that damages those that deserve to be in a ship - That deserve to work after graduation._
> 
> _Many use Admiral Alexander Marcus as an example of a disaster that could have been prevented should he have taken the SIM, but I say that we should not hold our loyal officers responsible for his actions. He’s a dead man and they are suffering for it.  
>  _
> 
> _I know this very well. Some of you may already know my story. As a lawyer that worked within Starfleet, I have also been tested to see if I would commit forgery, jury tampering and corruption when the most beautiful prize was dangling in front of me. Many in my field fell into the temptation, because the SIM after all is a collection of ones biggest desires, fears and experiences. It is a dream and a nightmare forged into one stress ball, waiting to combust.  
>  _
> 
> _It is a shame, because my ethics and morality could have also been evaluated through my experiences and records. The actions that resulted in my co-workers’ FAIL could have just as well been found through their records and connection if people weren't so lazy enough to look.  
>  _
> 
> _THE SIMULATION is not a program we should allow to continue.  
>  _
> 
> _Lest we forget - It was banned for a reason. Over a thousand were sent for psychological evaluations and checkups after THE SIMULATION, which is already a psychological evaluation by definition. Post traumatic stress disorder can’t be healed by some measly hyposhot. It alters the mind. It tampers with relationships of any kind – friendships, crew dynamics split with irreversible damage.  
>  _
> 
> _Trust is the very foundation of these ships, and they are all being stripped raw.  
>  _
> 
> _The very people who have decided to resurrect this test can do so because they don’t understand this, all except for one – this is because some have missed it by days even. If I wanted to push, I could say that they wouldn’t be in their positions if it weren’t for the ban that I helped to enforce. They do not understand, because one needs to see to understand. They do this because they are scared.  
>  _
> 
> _Well I say, there is no need to be scared. One bad apple doesn't make the whole tree rotten. Fortunately, the Captains of this generation have vetoed their option to view the SIMs of their current and future crew members. I say that this is the first step in getting rid of this program altogether._
> 
> _I am an old man.  
>  _
> 
> _I should not be standing here, speaking about this again. We fought this before, and with my former team alongside new-dedicated members, we will do so again and win before my dying breath._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the love you guys!  
> You have no idea how much I needed it after a month of being stuck.  
> Will update soon.  
> ~X


	21. SIM - PART FOURTEEN

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Double update! I'm trying to update all the SIMs as soon as possible.  
> Song: Truth (Helios Remix) by Balmorhea  
> ~X

** SIM - PART FOURTEEN**

 

 

He nuzzled on the soft material. It was odd because he was sure that his pillow wasn’t this soft. Nevertheless, the sensation was definitely one he could get use to, especially considering how it was also heated. The way it kept decreasing and inflating was the top feature. It was incredibly stupid to assume that his old memory foam was the best thing since sand flooded the planet.

This thing right here – it made him want to sink into it.

 

“Jim.”

 

The way it vibrated underneath him was the best. It was almost like it was calling his name …

 

“Jim.”

 

The tune of Spock’s voice took him out of his drowsy stupor. He moaned as he rubbed his cheek on Spock’s shirt, wanting to stay here forever. It was then that he realized that his pillow was very much alive.

Why was he here again?

 

“You are in need of medication.” Spock hummed under him.

 

No.

Nope, he didn’t. His head was fine and if he could avoid drugs, he would. He took too damn many that his stomach started to feel it. Maybe his liver was black too. At least livers could regenerate…

 

“This also requires sustenance unless you wish to become nauseous.” Spock’s voice was so soothing. “We have prolonged this long enough. Resting has become a hindrance to your recovery.”

 

Despite all of that, his head was floating and there was not an inch of pain to be found. Why would Spock suggest that he should move when he felt so good in this position? The soft circles on his scalp were worthy of a purr.

Like a slap in the face, a groan escaped his mouth from the unexpected sharp pain that ruthlessly invaded his tranquility with a murderous army. He cursed before he rolled over, almost falling off of the bed completely.

 

“I apologize.” Spock mentioned after helping Jim up. “I could not hold your pain any longer. You refused to listen. Logically, I had to halt my efforts.”

 

Jim didn’t understand much of what Spock said. He only comprehended the part when Spock said he wouldn’t listen.

 

“You know me by now.” He mumbled away. “Orders and I don’t get along.”

 

“I highly recommend that they reconcile soon.” Spock answered as he wrapped his arms around Jim’s waist.

 

He breathlessly chuckled at the humor.

 

After the door swished back, he regrettably glanced up and caught glimpses of the council members leaning on the wall, staring at them with concerned eyes.

It was Anastasia who held Jim’s other side as they made their way to the restroom. Jim forced himself to nudge them off whilst explaining that he wasn’t as dead as he looked like.

His pride made him lie, and he knew they knew.

In the end, they compromised and it resulted in Markus, Anastasia and Spock waiting outside of the restroom. Jim sighed, strolling to one of the toilets after shutting the door with the loudest bang he could achieve.

It was well into the afternoon, so luckily there was no one inside. He highly doubted that anyone would walk inside now either, especially with the council looking dark and gloomy, carrying the souls of each individual head of Cerberus outside the door.

The silence was both a beautiful thing, and yet it was also an alarm begging Jim to browse the parts of his brain he could do without. First he thought about the day’s errands, which consisted of checking in with Dr. Cardenas. He then had to see Steven, and all while avoiding questioning looks from literally everyone in this base.

So many people were watching his life when he was so used to be alone. Just sitting here gave him the chills because he half expected eyes behind him, but he would turn around to see nothing but tiles.

He hummed the last tunes he sang with the engineer as he cleaned himself. Jim quickly stripped and walked into a stall. The water automatically turned on – something that would forever creep the shit out of him. If he slightly jumped, he would deny it to the ghosts in the room.

The heated water trickled down his skin. He flipped his palms up and waited for the shaking to begin, but the muscular rhythm never came. Just looking at his hands were evidence enough that he wouldn’t have been able to complete anything without Steven.

Probably in full health, he would have still needed Steven. The man was more experienced than him, therefore more efficient. Now in the confinements of his own space, he questioned if his risk was even necessary

He constantly joked about sanity and lack thereof, however there was a sincere possibility that he was actually losing his mind.

That wasn’t even all of it!

Jim sharply breathed out under the water, spitting droplets from his vibrating lips.

In what world did he let someone influence him in such a way? Spock’s thoughts made him want to twist his insides with regret. He was a sole survivor. He was _always_ a sole survivor.

 

And he was in that same situation again – stuck in a dead world … alone. No wonder he jumped to Camp Salvatus like a starving child. He didn’t want to be alone again.

 

Jim was throwing away his fundamentals left and right. He went from being one hundred percent confident in his decisions to just chucking it away, replacing his success with repentance.

Spock’s fear was something he didn’t want to feel again, and not because he just felt horrible, but because he knew he was the cause behind Spock’s pain. He cared more about the Chief’s emotions than his fucking _fundamentals_.

His personal rule book was probably burned during the first attack.

 

_“We fit.”_

Spock had the tools to just waltz into his emotions and alter them with ease. At the same time, he discovered that he could just as well do the same to Spock … again.

Urain was right.

Whatever bridge connected them, it had colors he couldn’t even name – colors that the lights couldn’t illuminate. He craved to discover every inch of that bridge and memorize it from piece to connecting piece.

After the subtle shock of having his apartment invaded and waking up in his bed, Spock’s presence made him feel something foreign. At the time, he covered it all up with careless flirting. There was nothing wrong with messing with Spock, testing exactly what this new guy was made of.

 

He hasn’t had sex in over a year. There was no way he wouldn’t send some non-subtle messages to the most magnetically attractive and intriguing being he’s seen. Especially a being that desired to ‘ _rescue’_ him and wasn’t _insane_.

But here Jim was, coated in warm water, lather dripping down his skin with the Chief right outside those doors, and he found himself perfectly satiated from a nap.

                                                                                                         

Lust was easy to explain, but whatever this was – it was spine chilling.

 

. 

.

.

The cafeteria was swarming. It was as if no one decided to sit or play outside. Jim and Spock were the stars of the show and everyone had tickets.

Katherine demanded the children to stop asking questions regarding his health, or why he was spotted coming out of the council’s room with the Chief.

One half of the teenagers gave him knowing looks while the other half looked at him with sympathy. Jim was a walking open book, and he felt that they all had the access Spock had to him early on.

He would kill to change the password.

Shit – make it encrypted.

A part of him understood that it was all built from concern and general admiration, whereas the cynical part made him reflect on his time of isolation when he could freely look crazy while offering Bud energy drinks.

It was confusing.

Somehow, one judging pair of eyes he knew that would never hold back was missing from the crowd. Terrence was nowhere to be seen, which was extremely odd.

From the corner of his eyes, he noticed a full table with Steven in the middle, probably being bombarded with a tsunami of questions. He walked away from the council and walked directly to Steven.

Everyone at the table stopped eating and conversing to stare up at him. He waved at them with an awkward smile, which earned him a lot of awkward smiles in return.

 

“Jim!” Steven mumbled with a wide grin filled with mashed potatoes.

 

The engineer stood up and gave Jim the tightest hug he’d ever experienced. After a moment of shock, Jim reciprocated, so ever grateful to see Steven better and well.

 

“Last time I seen you, you were white as a sheet.” Steven stepped back, patting Jim’s shoulders.

 

“Same here, buddy.” Jim responded. “Dr. Cardenas thinks we tried a kamikaze.”

 

Steven swallowed his food and wiped his mouth. “It kind of was though.”

 

“Yeah…”

 

Steven looked behind Jim for a brief moment. Whatever he saw, it caused his smile to switch into a stern line. “How’d the Chief handle it?”

 

Jim scratched the back of his neck and let out a sigh.

 

“I heard he locked you in the council’s room. That true kid?” Steven added, not with curiosity, but with concern. “I heard that the computer’s alive now. I gotta tell ya, she’s probably bitching from being asleep for so long. She needed revenge man.”

 

That computer’s voice did startle the hell out of him. Jim snorted. “Jeez, what do you all think Spock did?”

 

“These kids are so stupid. They thought the Chief would kick you out entirely. I just assumed you’d get the same punishment as me. Some people heard arguing though, Jim. What was with the yelling?”

 

Jim quickly shook his head in the negative. “We’re fine, Steven.”

 

Steven dropped his voice. “Lies. After I woke up, he kicked me out of Security work and replaced me with Terrence. I can’t go into the storage room anymore either until further notice. I can’t participate in rebuilding a thing, and I can’t join Clayton with defense lessons on Dr. Cardenas’ orders. All I can do is read to the children with Katherine. I even want my shifts back - I’m soo bored, Jim!”

 

Spock didn’t mention any form of punishment for him.

 

“I was too tired to understand anything.” Jim sugarcoated the altercation. “I think the same goes for me.”

 

He hoped not though, although it was more likely that Spock just assumed that Jim would understand the obvious limitations.

 

“Well, kid.” Steven tsked. “We can rest now.” The engineer lifted his hand up with a cheesy grin. “We scared the heck out of the base, but we did it!”

 

Jim high-fived him, not caring for the grunts he heard behind him. The children ended up giggling, which caused Jim to stare at them with confusion.

Turns out, they weren’t laughing at him but at the Chief who was glaring daggers at him and Steven. Jim knew in that moment, Steven’s punishment applied to him to the ‘ _T_ ’.

 

.

.

.

 

Katherine had no qualms in passing a full tray of food to him, elaborately explaining how each food group was necessary for a quick recovery. She made it explicitly known that Jim’s tendency to eat a lot didn’t mean shit if he ate nothing but shit. Jim could just stare, in awe of the creativity of her words. She was a jumble of emotions.

There was approval, however there was also the motherly disdain she had for him being so reckless. She also mentioned how stress would be the last thing he needed, and it had to be avoided at all costs.

Jim adored her when she glared at Spock after that. Spock put the fork in his mouth while staring right back at her, unfazed by Katherine’s blatant warning. Apparently, everyone heard about the screams, thus making Spock the criminal who wanted to wrongfully arrest the hero.

After the meal, Spock informed him that he had to go to Terrence and obtain a progress report. Spock would meet up with him soon after while he was with Dr. Cardenas.

 

“I’m not a baby, Spock.”

 

“Irrelevant. As I have come to discover, adults are also in need of supervision.” Spock said as a matter of fact, the non-subtle meaning being fully understood behind it.

 

“I don’t have anything sneaky planned.” Jim huffed, the loner part of him not wanting to be ordered around, as stupid as it was. “I feel a little better too, so no crashing from me anytime soon.”

 

Spock’s twitch was enough to make Jim want to smack his own head right after. Casualty of such matters didn’t provide an inch of aid to get rid of this paranoia he knew that they had both developed. The world was frightening enough.

 

“Hey.” Jim inched closer, ignoring their surroundings and held the corner of Spock’s coat, pulling them closer. “I’ll be fine.” He softly whispered.

 

Spock looked right into his eyes and hesitantly nodded, as if confused if he should stay or leave.

 

Jim stepped back to make that decision for Spock. “See you later.” He waved, walking closer to Markus and making their way down the hall.

 

Markus swayed in slow paces to match Jim’s. He looked to the side with narrowed eyes. He seriously didn’t need a babysitter.

 

“I’m just going with you to get some aspirins for Ana, man.” Markus somehow read his mind.

 

Or maybe Jim’s glare provided plenty explanation.

 

“Don’t look at me like that.” Markus raised a brow while crossing his big arms. “I should be glaring at you.”

 

Jim winced. “Why?”

 

“You and Chief … in my room? … Really?” The council member looked at him the same way everyone in the base did all afternoon. “I mean, thanks for setting a better foundation for this base, but I don’t think I can sleep in there aga – “

 

Jim had no idea how he did it, but he conjured enough energy to push the ex-Marine to the other side of the hallway and march away.

 

He wasn’t drugged enough for this.

 

. 

.

.

 

“Don’t cry on me now.” Dr. Cardenas reprimanded after the third and final hyposhot. Her height didn’t hinder her threatening presence.

 

Jim rubbed his abused neck with a groan.

 

“I already put in a request for Terrence to update the system regarding the replicators. Because of you, I might have diet logs to look into sometime this week, or whenever the Chief can start to implement us into the registry. If it weren’t for the garden, everyone would be full of unhealthy shit. Those darned teens, taking advantage of technology.” She said as she took off her gloves and tossed them into a silver bucket.

 

“I’ll be the new Big Brother. Tell that to Karim.” She evilly grinned at him. “You can’t hide from me anymore, Mr. Kamikaze.”

 

This was going to be the second disadvantage for having the base fully operating. He rolled his eyes at the threat. This was entirely his fault anyways.

 

“Considering that topic, I can afford to make new medicine – go back to my old pharmaceutical days. The supplies were just freezing in the back.” Her smile got wider while she did the weirdest jazz fingers. “The endless possibilities!”

 

He could only sit and watch Dr. Cardenas vocally brainstorm base improvements. She interjected every attempt to speak.

 

“I can make birth control again. We were almost done, Jim! The whole base would be pregnant soon enough if not for you! You’d think it’s just the teens, but nooo – It’s everyone!” She groaned.

 

“You’re welcome.” Jim mumbled while twisting his neck with a crack.

 

“Shhhhh.” She put her index finger on her lips. “Hear that?”

 

He looked around as if it would somehow amplify his hearing. “I don’t hear anything.”

 

“ _Exactly!!_ ” She jumped up, laughing out loud.

 

Him and Steven created a monster.

 

Dr. Cardenas breathed in and stopped her animated movements. “Alright, enough of me. It’s time to start stretching.”

 

Everything already hurt. He whined as she tried to get him off the bed. It was destiny that he would become a manifestation of every stubborn child still in existence.

**  
**

. 

.

.

 

Spock didn’t show up. It was pathetic to think about it from the moment he left and made his way to the library. It didn’t matter anyways. Spock had an ample amount of work to catch up on while simultaneously customizing a new system.

He wanted to be more of help though. Everyone had a part, but Dr. Cardenas refused him to participate in his shift, including his extra ones. Word would get out if he entered the storage room too. The surveillance room was off-limits, because he could only go there with Steven, who was also not allowed in there.

He mentioned that he wanted to join Clayton’s self-defense class, but then he was forbidden of that as well. Katherine would have had his ear from adding more strain to his body.

Yoga was the only option left and it wouldn’t resume until tomorrow.

The library it was.

Because of his jumbled thoughts, a wave of pain took over again. Karim crashed into Jim, and suffocated him with his skinny arms. The kid seemed out of breath, damp hair and all.

 

“Holy fuck! Do you ever have that moment when you just want to meet a celebrity, but they don’t end up meeting your standards in real life?”

 

Jim just continued to blink, trying to not let out a low whine.

 

The kid then patted Jim’s chest with flashing teeth. “You’re like the real thing, dude!”

 

No words came from Jim.

 

“And the way the Chief acted – sheesh. I guessed that he liked you before, but I know for sure now.”

 

Jim’s throat ran dry. This kid had knowledge of something so important and yet didn’t find it in him to tell him? Karim was officially classified as the worst, cracker-eating roommate ever.

 

_“Karim!!”_

 

Both of them turned to the sharp, irritated voice. Jim felt the intense anger in those two syllables.

 

“Shit.”

 

“What did you do?” He questioned Karim.

 

“Enough for my ass to be on a platter. I can only hope that it’s a silver one.” Karim said as Anastasia ran towards them like the lion that caught target of her pray. “You were my inspiration, by the way.”

 

Jim didn’t appreciate that compliment at all.

They both ended up stepping back, and then Jim realized that this had absolutely nothing to do with him. He grabbed the retreating kid and forced him to stay in place.

 

“Wha - ?” Karim gaped at his wrist in astonishment. “You traitor!”

 

The council member eventually approached them. She exhaled, then grabbed Karim’s forearm away from Jim.

 

“I swear - you are the most high maintenance person in this base.” She tsked. Her pulled back red hair extenuating her sharp features.

 

Jim wanted to tell her that her frown might become permanent if she continued to keep it as her default expression. Then again, maybe he always saw it because it was already permanent.

 

“Don’t bring me to Chief. He’s already annoyed with me Ana!” Karim whined.

 

“Oh my god!” She flamboyantly covered her mouth with wide eyes, pursing her hip to the side. “I _totally_ wonder why?!”

 

Jim snorted at the theatrical display. “It can’t be that bad.”

 

She straightened up and looked at him like he absolutely had no right to say that. He couldn’t blame her. Jim waved at them while she dragged the grouching kid away.

 

“Double-crosser!”

 

He wasn’t affected by Karim’s insults.

 

“You’re nothin’ but a lousy Lightrunner!”

 

Jim received more quizzical looks from the base members when he screamed, “I love you too!”

He knew that this would have no discernible effect on their friendship.

Hopefully…

. 

.

.

 

Spock was in his room with Markus, awaiting the teenager that had the audacity to leave before Clayton began his post. Terrence noticed that the time the door was first opened did not coincide with Clayton’s first log. Karim also ignored protocol by deciding to disappear by going farther than permissible since Spock could not locate him.

Markus declared that everyone freely entering and exiting the base would prove problematic in the future if harsher limitations were not implemented. Now he was beginning to consider such proposal. It was disappointing that he may endeavor to eliminate the already limited hours of sunlight if this continued.

He always avoided the possibility because he made a promise that he would not run the base with military precision – one strict, unreasonable rule would inevitably be the beginning of many.

Doing so would create a dictatorship within the base, and he has witnessed the failure by such a structure during after the third attack. Some humans would easily throw their neighbors off the ladder to reach the top. An unconditional, authoritative leader would create a desirable position tempting to heinous individuals.

Instead, the base was simple. Every aspect of the base had a head base member. His title of ‘Chief’ and the formation of ‘Council’ were made by the people. It was purely symbolic for they only managed the security of the people.

 

And Karim proved to be a safety hazard.

 

The door opened with Anastasia struggling to go in as a result of Karim’s struggles. Spock raised a brow and stared at Karim.

Struggles in vain, Karim stopped trying to escape and willingly entered with a scornful expression.

 

“Explain yourself.” Spock demanded. He had the urge to rub his temples from the excessive stress building up.

 

His mind was becoming the cheap random access memory that did not have the ability or the skills to sort out the entering material while eliminating others. It just sucked everything in, awaiting its inevitable crash.

 

“Talk.” Markus ordered when they all realized that Karim was hesitant to comply.

 

“I was just going for a walk.” Karim shrugged.

 

Spock’ knew the wrinkles on his forehead deepened under his overgrown hair. “You did not blatantly dismiss protocol to do something that could have waited, nor did you spontaneously decide to exceed the permissible range. Your illogical actions carried intent. Lies will not aid you."

Karim frowned from his tone.

Good.

Spock was not here to entertain games. This was a matter of security, and overall moral. Since when did Karim begin to lie and ignore the rules? It was not a part of his usual behavior.

 

“Well I’m back, aren’t I?” Karim stubbornly jibed.

 

Markus abruptly stood up. “Did you plan on coming back? What if something were to happen to you? “

 

“There are people that might need our help!” Karim blurted out, stunning everyone in the room.

 

Stunning everyone, except Spock.

 

“You say you need more proof, but we won’t get any. The people are exiting and entering the building from the back. There’s no store or any other establishment to hack into back there to see through those cameras. “

                                                                                       

“That’s not your job, Karim!” Anastasia intervened. “You can’t just prance around and scout things out for yourself. That building is too far away. How would you have survived during the night? You’re useless to us and them if you’re ashes!”

 

Karim covered himself and shied with every word. Spock got off his bed and approached the teenager he has come to trust.

 

Spock held up a hand, the intent being for Anastasia to halt her yells. She did and stepped back. Markus then stepped back from them, allowing Spock to be the closest to Karim.

 

“We do not have footage showing us undeniable proof of a single person.” Spock started. “In simple terms, you risked your life for something that might not _exist_.”

 

“Chief … you’ve done this bef -”

 

“I have not finished.”

 

Karim immediately shut his mouth.

 

“We cannot use our little resources for chance. Also, I ask that you cease comparing the situation to Jim’s retrieval. They are not identical, because if they were, the occupants in that building would have already fully integrated within this base.”

 

He could not look at Karim’s disappointment any longer. The computer in the base was not the same as one that would be installed into a Starship. The system could not detect heat signatures from outside the base.

If the situation allowed it, Spock would embark to meet these alleged survivors – He just required footage.

 

Karim deflated and glanced at all of them. The teenager slowly nodded. “I apologize.”

 

“Karim, we do not require apologies. We only need you to comply.”

 

“I understand.” Karim gazed at the floor, avoiding all eye contact.

 

Spock dismissed Karim and stared at his retreating back. They may have come to an agreement, however he felt a tug that demanded more of his attention.

For the first time, he was not confident with Karim. The resolution seemed almost incomplete. Anastasia and Markus exchanged knowing looks. He learned to read them well enough to know that they had similar thoughts.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~X


	22. SIM - PART FIFTEEN

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the second part of the double update.  
> *sends you kisses* 
> 
> Song: Kryptonite by Danny Fernandes
> 
> ~X

** SIM - PART FIFTEEN **

 

 

There were moments in the day when Spock would feel something that did not belong to him. He would freeze in the middle of walking through a room, suddenly feeling numb. To increase the abnormality, the numbness would dissipate and turn into strong tugs of phantom pains. None of which belonged to him as well.

They were identical to the painful sensations he felt from Jim that morning, nevertheless the question still remained. How was it that he still felt that connection?

Was it that the lock and chain his mind was in preformed at an accelerated rate? When he impulsively decided to show, instead of simply express his feelings, did he do more than that without his knowledge? If so, then it was bittersweet. It was comedic, really. The moment when he feels as if he could be returning back to himself, his mind finds another way to betray him.

He would aim to discover the extent of these consequences. He would never forgive himself if Jim were harmed because of his carelessness. He could tolerate any damage towards himself, except Jim had to be protected at all costs. 

 

Jim had his own troubles.

 

As the day neared the end, Spock replaced his sweater and coat with a simple long-sleeve shirt. The cafeteria was the warmest out of all the corridors in the base.

Because he missed his morning shift to stay with Jim, he decided to aid the D shift.

Lockdown would be in twenty – two minutes and he barely had time to see Jim. He began to wipe the tables, avoiding laser eyes. He hoped no one would continue to bother him today. He had already received various amounts of questions regarding his stay in Anastasia and Markus’ room. Spock knew two things when it came to rumors.

Rumors were toxic in the Academy.

They were toxic on the Enterprise.

 

Somehow, rumors (as long as they remained harmless) benefited this base. It gave the people topics to discuss aside from the educational material and books in the library.

It was illogical, and it occasionally made him wonder if this dying planet even enabled logical action and behavior.

 

The nights were inaccessible. Freedom was wrongfully stolen; therefore he had no difficulty in tolerating the adolescents finding entertainment in Steven chasing Karim around, or Anastasia and Markus becoming the symbol of ‘the scary cops’, or Clayton’s entertaining and failing attempts to romantically court Savitra.

It provided a distraction.

 

There was only one incident that this common distraction disturbed him. 

> _That new guy - Did you see him?_
> 
> _Super cute, duh!_
> 
> _Jaylee says that he left the council’s room, yo._
> 
> _Obviously not Chief’s. You mean Markus and Ana?  
>    
>  _
> 
> _Yea, but Markus wasn’t there._
> 
> _So?_
> 
> _What if they’re a thing?_
> 
> _Oh my god, shut up! That’s ridiculous. That man loves our food more than anyone else here._
> 
> _Well if I still had my shit from back home, I would bet my hovercraft that Markus and Lightrunner might fight it off._
> 
> _Markus is strong…_
> 
> _But that Lightrunner is a bolt._

 

He would normally walk past such a thing, however he found himself looking at them with a scrutinizing glare. They noticed within four seconds. He informed them that conversing such topics would instill unnecessary stress on relationships that they had no part of. Their poisonous words did not serve a purpose thus illogical. They uttered their apologies and left.

 

“Thanks for helping, Chief!”

 

Spock noticed Savitra’s presence a second too late. Despite her human strength, she could possibly choke him in this tight embrace with success. He stood there with wide eyes when her wrinkled shall briefly covered his mouth.

Ever since his experiments to confirm the current state of his mind, some people took attention to his new habit. He never considered that they would reciprocate so excessively. He could not undo his error. Any attempt to rectify it would result in exposing the fact that he had no defenses – that he was damaged.

Savitra was head of G shift and mainly had the responsibility of breakfast. She was not supposed to be here. Spock admired it whenever someone did more than what was required of them.

He hugged her back.

“Until next time, Savitra.”

 

**.**

**.**

**.**

 

A couple inches from Spock’s room door, Jim was staring at him with crossed arms. Lockdown would commence in five minutes, and he failed to locate Jim.

Now he knew why.

 

“Barely saw you today.” Jim let out a low tired voice.

 

Spock remained quiet as he opened his door, motioning his hand to allow Jim inside. This was the first time anyone has been inside his room near lockdown.

Jim lazily walked in, the door closing behind him with a hiss. Spock watched Jim look around his room with wide eyes.

 

“This is certainly better than my old place.” Jim declared, playing with the ends of his sleeves. He then trod towards Spock’s bed and sat down, patting the sheets. “We should make a run to the FG Supermarket. Remember that place?”

 

Spock knew that Jim understood how such a question did not deserve a dignified answer. Nevertheless, he decided to indulge in Jim’s sudden optimism. “We do not supply energy drinks and we have no intention of retrieving them. Savitra can refer you to healthier alternatives."

 

“I'm not serious, Spock!”

 

Spock could just stare and gulp after Jim crashed on his bed so casually, like this was their room. He also felt his lip twitch when Jim chuckled. Markus always stated that laughter would accelerate any recovery. The color was returning to Jim’s skin and Spock felt like his breathing returned to a better speed. He sometimes could foresee Jim falling in front of him.

 

“We should go back, but not for what you think. They have this awesome memory foam that you could just die in!”

 

Lockdown would commence in two minutes and forty-three seconds. He’s never had anyone in here. He deduced that Jim clearly desired to remain.

The change in routine was extremely alarming. The comfort between them should have been alarming as well.

He was intrigued by Jim when Jim was nothing but pixels on the holoscreen – the Lightrunner. His mind brought up the word ‘ _beautiful’_ instead of seeing Jim as a man who obtained aesthetic symmetry. Why did he feel like this?

If infatuation was the only aspect, it should have withered away by now.

 

Jim rolled to the side, the thin shirt rolling up on unexplored skin and ocean irises gazing with more than just want. In that moment, Spock craved so much he felt a crack inside.

Without thought, he took three large strides to his bed and pressed his knees on the mattress. He was leaning on top of Jim, his limbs of each side of Jim’s body.

 

_Three._

_Two._

_One._

 

The alarms blared, cocooning them in crimson flashes.

The doors hissed with a lock.

 

Jim’s flimsy fingers raked Spock’s bangs up his face, revealing a better view of Jim smiling up at him.

 

“Oops.”

 

All the stress burned away as if touched by the lights. His heavy limbs became weightless and Spock leaned down further until the tips of their noses brushed together, strands of Jim’s facial features tickling his skin. Jim’s fingers touched the back of his scalp, slowly moving in circular motions, just as he did that morning. Both of his worlds were either eerily silent or in ashes - so why was it that Jim felt like home? It was most illogical for Jim was a person, not a place. They started breathing at the same pace, remaining still while they shared their peace. No matter their situation, he could easily believe that there would be peace together.

 

The spontaneity of it all was not lost on him.

 

As the base started to become more stable, the occupants could discuss simple things such as sexual exploits and committed relationships forming among them. He was always asked why he never indulged on the occasional sexual encounter, but his explanations of having no interest in such matters were easily accepted because of his physiology.

However, those questions transformed into worry after a year. **Did Spock not desire to have someone by his side? Did he not fall in love? Was he not _capable_? Chief can’t be alone forever.**

He overheard Adriana explain to Anastasia that maybe the Chief did not desire to be with a human even though only wanting to be with Vulcans would be highly illogical. The human child stated verbatim that his alleged decision to not be with a human as _highly illogical._

 

Spock accepted his fate. He would work, work and work, tossing his emotional needs aside. He was Vulcan after all. He would just be a Vulcan that never experienced the touch of a significant other, let alone a perfectly compatible significant other … let alone a mate.

 

He felt Jim’s eyelashes flutter underneath him. What has he done to deserve someone that made him reconsider everything?

Looking upon Jim’s body on the biobed created a forceful fear, all his queries were answered. He knew with absolute certainty, that if he were in a crowd full of eligible Vulcans, his katra would point directly to Jim, forming the brightest halo and capturing him with such intensity, it would be impossible to ignore.

 

“Last night was the best sleep I had.” Jim confessed.

 

Whether Jim admitted or not, Spock discovered he would have informed him of the same anyways. “I find your company to be very relaxing. You can enter my quarters whenever you wish.”

 

Spock could see Jim’s evident approval when he flashed his teeth in a wide smile. For the first time, he could no longer classify this magnetic charge as a separate entity, but as viable part of his own desires. Jim enacted the gesture Spock replayed in his mind an unhealthy amount of times. Those fingers trickled to his hot cheek, pushing them further together until a chastely kiss. The very action seemed to be one they have already done for years. Spock automatically leaned into it with closed eyes. He had Jim and yet, he still wanted him to chart crashing levels. He craved to know everything about this man.

Everything.

Waves of Jim’s arousal hit him, resulting in the kiss becoming more heated. Jim cocked his head up with a low sound Spock still had no idea he had the ability to bring out. He ached to know what else he could bring out of Jim.

 

Unexpectedly, the fingers on his skin started to involuntarily shake. Those puckered lips transformed into a weak smile. Spock realized that Jim was laughing, immediately shoving his hand away, cursing under his breath. The laugh was not one of enjoyment. It was an exhausted laugh derived from misery. Jim’s fatigue wrapped around the arousal, making it unable to flourish.

 

He inched back, and furrowed his brows. He was here simply translating emotions into actual words … with definitions. He was actually capable of registering the information with one hundred percent efficiency. He has been easily doing so since he first had contact with Jim. He realized that he could aid Jim in not only his pain, but from those unorganized thoughts that came through as agonizing white noise. If it could hurt him, then he knew it definitely hurt Jim.

 

“I have a proposal.”

 

Jim pursed his lips, and then nodded faster than Spock assumed he would.

 

“I am not aware of what exactly disturbs you, however I can sense that it is taking up an intolerable amount of space.” Spock could also detect more than the constant worry as a result of Jim’s health. There was something deeply troubling in that discovery.

 

Jim frowned. “We all have skeletons, Spock.”

 

“It hurts you, Jim.” Spock interjected, trying to prove his point.

 

Jim quickly looked away. “What good would it do if you saw them?” He huskily whispered.

 

“To observe them is not my objective.” Spock shook his head. “My suggestion is to join me in meditation. I would not be able to see anything unless you deliberately show me.”

 

Truth is, Spock has had no success with meditation however, since Jim provided the tools for his mind to enable such functions, he could use it to aid Jim. He already attempted to do so first thing in the morning with great success, considering how Jim refused to leave the bed and ended being completely oblivious to a raiding migraine.

 

After a long moment, Jim nodded with a weak smile. “How does it work exactly?” There was a hint of cautious and anticipation in those words.

 

Spock rested his weight on his elbow, then sat up fully before finally crossing his legs. Jim repeated the action parallel to him, and they both were on eye level.

 

“Your first objective would be to project a specific memory. I find that seeking a memory that provides a calm emotion, a sort of tranquility is the most efficient for me. For you, I suggest one that you would consider to bring forms of happiness.”

 

Spock observed Jim close his eyes with a deep inhale. He would have said a memory that lacked all emotion and stimulation to promote those feelings, however his mother informed him that meditation with his father proved more productive if she thought of ‘happy’ memories.

 

Jim breathed in again as he rested his hands in the empty space between his crossed legs. His nose scrunched up a little. “Ummm … I think I have one.”

 

“Describe it to me.”

 

A smile formed across Jim’s face. “I see purple flowers.” He let out a chuckle. “They weren’t a lavender purple, but an extremely saturated purple that could glow in the dark. Some thought them to be ugly. I didn’t.”

 

“And what are you wearing?”

 

Jim snorted. “Kinky.”

 

Spock would have dramatically rolled his eyes, except the action was too foreign for his body to produce it. The purpose of his query was to instill details into the memory, for he knew that the majority of humans could not point out every specific detail. The overall vagueness would impede their progress should Jim avoid this process.

 

“… dark jeans … had rips in them. My shirt was too big, my right shoulder exposed.” The pupils under Jim’s eyelids started to dance. “Wow, I look like shit.”

 

Spock forced himself to keep his voice smooth. “And what are you doing, Jim?”

 

“I am … “ Jim’s right cheek formed a dimple. “… running. Just running around in the empty field. Pointlessly running …”

 

Spock inched forward. He held Jim’s palms, facing them up and carefully rolled the fabric, eventually resting his fingers on Jim’s wrists. He shut his eyes and started to cross the bridge. Jim sharply inhaled from the contact, and a surge of Jim’s worry hit Spock.

 The image Spock was presented with was a kid most likely in his teenage years - Thirteen human years maximum. Spock observed him run around in a field of sand and purple flowers. It was strange, because that was all he could see. The rest of the memory was dipped in opaque fog. He could feel more material around him.

There were dark navy blobs in the sky that were not natural, and he could not discern the details.

Jim was actively blocking him. If Jim chose a memory that consisted of ‘happiness’ then why would Jim feel the need to hide it from him?

 

“I instructed you to think of – “

 

“I know, I know.” Jim whispered. “This memory is honestly one of the best. I’m just hesitant with you seeing the rest right now.”

 

Jim was indeed correct. After another minute, he sensed complete relief and hope in the fractured memory. He nodded with understanding, ignoring the illogical tug of rejection. His purpose here was to amplify this positive feeling and have it resonate within Jim without effort on his part, eliminating the white noise that poisoned the majority of Jim’s mind.

 

The younger Jim approached Spock with a cautious glare. The abnormally thin child gave him a flower while looking at Spock up and down. The plant was of non - Terran origin.

 

 _“You’re late.”_ This Jim disapprovingly shook his head, trying to look taller by resting his weight on his tiptoes. _“But here’s a flower.”_

 

 _“I appreciate the gesture.”_ Spock carefully replied when the flower was placed in his palms. As he looked at the plant, he noticed that his own arms were covered in science blue sleeves.

 

This Jim pointed to him. _“You put it in your hair. Duh”_

 

He obliged and placed the stem behind his ears … ears that were void of his usual black curtain. He touched the rest of his head and noticed that it was perfectly cut in the traditional Vulcan style. Was he like this because Jim saw him as such?

The energy Spock wished to seek out was emanating from this person. It was a weak one, however he worked with it and succeeded in his goal. The shattering static quieted down. He ignored his questions and endeavored to mend as much as he could.

 

They both sat there for forty-two minutes with closed eyes, indulging in that feeling while Spock cleaned the unsteady emotions that did not belong.

 

After their completion - Jim quickly moved forward and wrapped him in a hug that was tighter than Savitra’s. They slept with their limbs entangled, buried under two sheets. He relished while listening to Jim’s snores. They were indication of an uninterrupted slumber that was well deserved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~X


	23. SIM - PART SIXTEEN

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Double update - again!  
> Let's just say that I love coffee as much as Janeway.  
> Song: It Has Begun by Starset  
> ~X

** SIM - PART SIXTEEN **

 

 

Jim was spontaneously shoved to the side, abruptly waking him in a wholly confused state. The floor was the first thing to greet him after he rubbed his eyelids. Turns out, Spock jumped off the bed from the loud bangs invading their dreams. He needed to stop crashing on Spock’s floor.

Gathering enough energy to rest his weight on his elbows, he forced himself to look up. He saw Spock open the door with his hair and clothes in disarray, broadcasting that he was the abused pillow.

 

“You have to see this, Chief.”

 

A voice that clearly belonged to Terrence made him grumble under his breath. Jim stared at them, and for once, Terrence’s scorn was different. He saw more sadness than just annoyance.

 

“We have trouble.” Terrence clarified, sparking all of Jim’s attention.

 

Spock looked back at Jim and did a quick nod. Within seconds they were all up and about. Jim also didn’t miss Terrence’s glowering glare when Spock just simply allowed him to come. He shoved the thought away.

They made their way to the security room. He caught a glimpse of Steven approaching them, his hair wanting to grab the ceiling. When Steven joined them, he followed their pace.

“Ana called me.” Steven started, thankfully looking a bit better than the day before. “Everything okay?”

 

Jim shook his head, clueless as ever. “Nope.”

 

They all power walked into the security room that had all three screens already directed onto the tall building that sparked many conversations this week alone. There was a wooden stick stuck inside dirt and sand, miles away from the building with a nailed cardboard sign.

Spock ordered Terrence to zoom into it.

**WE HAVE SOMETHING YOU WANT.**

**\--- > 0800.**

 

Jim squinted to get a better view, scratching his fuzzy eyebrows. The message took too long to process in his brain.

Something broke inside when he then saw Spock slowly back up with wide eyes. Terrence and Markus were exchanging ideas of what could have possibly been taken, except Spock wasn’t listening.

Spock ran out of the room.

 

”Shit.” Steven wiped his face, putting his weight on the wall to support him.

 

Anastasia soon ran inside the room panting, taking them all out of their brainstorming. “They have him.” She announced with both palms gripping each side of the entrance.

 

Before Jim could ask ‘whom’, he heard the answer from Spock’s panicked voice from the corridor.

 

“KARIM!”

. 

.

.

 

Terrence, Anastasia, and Markus glared at him, causing Jim to instinctively inch back from the strong black aura. There were flashing arrows pointed at his head, and they were getting bigger ... and bigger ...

 

“Isn’t he your roommate??!” Terrence rolled his seat back and tilted his head, confused and angry beyond belief.

 

... and bigger.

 

“How does he go missing and you don’t know?!”

 

Nothing could come out of his mouth. Jim bit the side of his tongue, concentrating on that pain instead. He was speechless because Terrence … well, Terrence was right.

 

Karim left to scout out the area and whoever was in that building decided to take him.

 

Steven placed a trembling hand on Jim’s shoulder.

 

Ana shook her head with a frown while Markus raised a brow.

 

“I didn’t know that he planned to just leave.” Jim pathetically stated. “He spoke about that building _once_.”

 

Terrence scowled at Jim’s words. “This is all your fault.”

 

Every poisonous word in that sentence was a dagger to his already fragile person.

 

“Weren’t _you_ on shift?!” Jim retorted, too tired to deal with this shit. “You only had one job. Did your eyesight become as shitty as your attitude?”

 

“We were in lockdown!” Terrence abruptly stood up, causing the chair to smash into the console. “Karim would deliberately hide because he knows the system better than anyone. He fucking found you, and unlike him I can’t find people who don’t want to be found. I would have had a head start if you noticed that he wasn’t even in the room!”

 

“Terrence …” Steven muttered. “Karim manipulated us - he manipulated the computer. She’s an old one man.”

 

Jim could have sworn he heard Spock ask how many people remained inside after lockdown. He was confused as to why Spock would ask that weird question. Guess he knew why now.

 

Anastasia sighed, walking between them with hands up. “Nothing is going to be solved like this guys.”

 

“No!” Terrence wasn’t having it. “Were you too drugged up to not notice an empty bed?!”

 

“He was with me.”

 

All eyes switched to Chief as he walked inside the room. Jim wanted to recoil at that moment. Not because everyone here knew of his whereabouts, but because it didn’t matter to his defense. He should have had an inclination of Karim’s intentions. It was Spock’s fault because of technicality, however it was Jim’s fault for not sleeping in his own damn bed with his own freakin’ roommate.

 

Spock touched Jim’s forearm and brought him closer.

 

Terrence flinched back with wide eyes, and then glanced at Markus, looking for some answers - maybe. Jim didn’t care. The council member only shrugged. This didn’t seem to be news to anyone but Terrence - and Steven, who was gaping, looking between them in complete shock.

 

“Computer, state the number of residents inside and outside of Warehouse 15.”

 

_Seventy-three heat signatures are located in Warehouse 15.  
_

_The remaining seventy-seven are detected within permissible range.  
_

 

Permissible range their asses.

 

“The fault belongs to me.” Spock defended Jim after the initial shock. “Karim presented himself as a risk prior to this.”

 

“It’s all of ours, Chief.” Markus interjected. “He lied through his teeth. We saw it, but decided to believe him.”

 

“How did he leave without anyone noticing?” Ana asked.

 

Spock let out a tired sigh. “It has just come to my knowledge that Karim convinced Clayton to leave his post seconds before the door closed."

 

And of course Clayton wouldn't assume the kid would run out in the night.

 

Anastasia cringed. “But the lights …”

 

“He took one of our vehicles and twenty five rolls of our tape supply.”

 

After Spock informed them of that fact, Markus let out a yell. “That fucking kid! I swear to God!”

 

“Spock …” Jim whispered between them. “You only have one hour to make a two hour trip…”

 

That wasn’t even the main problem either.

 

“Chief.” Steven began, walking to Spock with a tightened expression. “This is extremely risky.”

 

Spock briefly glanced at Anastasia and Markus. “We will go regardless.”

 

It sounded more like a question in Jim’s ears. After the council said ‘ _Aye_ ’, Spock’s tense shoulders breifly went down.

 

“We have ample time to retrieve Karim and return home.”

 

“That’s assuming if they’re peaceful.” Jim included. If he wanted to be a realist, which was the current term for pessimist in this dead world, then Karim was already killed off, or whomever had Karim had every intention of killing the council. “They want something, otherwise that sign wouldn’t be there.”

 

“We have no choice.” Spock responded. “We have to at least attempt peaceful negotiation.”

 

“Fuck that.” Markus huffed. “We’re bringing everything.”

 

Jim noticed how Ana looked down at her waist band, one hand patting the area. That phaser she threatened him with before was probably real. God knew she could fully charge it now.

 

“I concur. We will bring our weapons.” Spock nodded. “We have to prepare for every scenario.” Spock then pointed to the screen and ordered Terrence to rewind the footage so they could see who planted the sign.

 

“It’s nothing, Chief.” Terrence said as he moved his fingers up on the console, zooming into the footage. “We don’t know who this woman is.”

 

Jim leaned close, ignoring Terrence’s devilish glare, and noticed a small figure walking to the area and planting the stick under the retreating lights. That was a big risk in itself.

When Terrence zoomed into the person, he came to recognize something about this woman. After the pixels finally merged together, he felt bile creep up his throat. In that moment, he knew he would leave with Spock, no matter the Chief’s objections.

 

“Gigi.” He announced.

 

“Who?” Steven asked while the others quizzically gazed at him.

 

“In my apartment – remember those recordings?”

 

Spock nodded, unaffected by Anastasia's scoff and Markus' eye roll.

 

“It came from 'Camp Salvatus'. Gigi over there is a member.” He pointed to the woman he hoped to never see again. “I highly doubt she’s alone, and if I’m correct – we’re not dealing with one or two people. We’re dealing with fifty-eight with the possibility that there are more recruits.”

 

This wasn’t going to be peaceful or simple. The leader of Camp Salvatus was the definition of a mind too far gone.

 

“They do not think for themselves. If the leader declared it so, they would have no objections in dying for him.”

 

This could very well be a war.

 

. 

.

.

 

Jim slammed Spock’s door, not bothering to let the slow thing hiss shut. He stalked inside Spock's room while the Chief was quickly stripping off his pants.

 

“No.” Spock simply declared as he quickly put on his other pants, zipping it up - all while not turning back to face Jim.

 

Jim didn’t say what he was thinking, but was there really a point of saying something that was so obvious?

 

He put his foot down regardless. “Yes.”

 

“I refuse to discuss this.” Spock stated, the fabric of his shirt briefly over his face, tossing it on the bed. His naked muscles flexed from the swift movements. 

 

Any other time, Jim would have oogled the Chief, but he was practically jittering with rage.

 

He thought he got rid of these people!

 

And here they were, ruining his life … again!

 

“I have to come.” Jim added. “You _need_ me.”

 

Spock quickly put on his navy sweater and finally turned to Jim. Half expecting some sort of statement of authority, Spock instead placed his hands on Jim's shoulders with a brief squeeze.

 

“And that is precisely why I cannot allow you to join us.”

 

Jim had to shake his head. He could not allow himself to sink into those heavy words. “Not going to work, Spock.”

 

“Jim…” Spock began as if reprimanding a child.

 

“No, Spock!” Jim moved Spock’s hands away with a scoff. “I know everything about them, down to how they work. It would be the paragon of illogical to just leave me here, because I swear to you, Karim isn’t the only one capable of sneaking out!”

 

Markus barged into the room with Ana next to him, stomping unnecessarily loud with each step. They both glanced at Spock then to Jim. He hoped that they didn’t hear them arguing just like last time.

 

“Chief, I hate to suggest this, but we have come to a decision that I think you seriously need to consider.” Ana kept her head up, but her usual confidence wasn’t there, and that scared the shit out of Jim.

 

“Then state your proposal.” Spock demanded, clearly annoyed that they interrupted them.

 

Markus crossed his arms and tilted his head to Jim. “He needs to come with us.”

 

Spock’s features contorted into one of total annoyance.

 

Jim took advantage of it and jibed Spock further. “Told you.”

 

Spock’s lips tightened, his nostrils flaring open. From the way Spock kept silent and kept his eyes closed, Jim knew he won.

 

“Spock …” Markus carefully trod towards the vexing Chief. “After the shit he did, he’s _council_. You know goddamn well that Steven refuses to be.”

 

Anastasia hummed her agreement, staring at Spock as if daring him to say differently. They all knew that Spock had to be Chief before anything. Spock couldn’t avoid that logic.

 

“Clayton is expecting us to retrieve our weapons.” Spock finally said in the heaviest silence Jim’s ever experienced. “Markus ... inform Steven to retrieve four earpieces.”

 

_Four._

Jim bit the insides of his cheeks to prevent his smile.

 

No matter – The amount of smugness in Markus’ smile compensated for it.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~X


	24. PRE SIM - PART FOUR

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PRE SIM moments!  
> Song: If I Lose Myself by OneRepublic  
> ~X

** PRE SIM - PART FOUR **

 

  
 

Aftershave would always remain one of those stupid products that would suck, but be useful all the same. His stomach growled right when he patted the burning liquid on the sides of his face. He walked out of his bedroom restroom, wishing that he could have some damn breakfast. All that junk food a couple hours ago didn’t satiate him, and he wasn't allowed to eat now.

He wiped his face with a groan.

The soft skin under his palms made him wonder why he shaved his face at all – he was the youngest Captain, but that didn’t necessary mean he had to look the part.

>  
> 
> _‘Images of the reputable Edmond Dhar and his son have been spotted in Prima Garden restaurant this morning. Sources state that Mr. Dhar’s son, Gregory Dhar allegedly has arrived with the firm’s top lawyers.'_

The mini-holoscreen was the only light flickering around in his room to compensate the sun’s rays that would soon arrive. Looking outside of the window, he took a moment to appreciate the fading stars. The white twinkles had the ability to give him some form of safety – some certainty. No matter what would take place in the SIM, the stars were guaranteed.

 

> _'Mr. Dhar was also seen alongside his former co-worker, Franklin Mason near the Ferry building. Rumors have risen as to the purpose of their visit. For now, we can only speculate that their return after the SIMULATION reintroduction is not a coincidence.'_

 

Jim rolled his eyes and powered down the holoscreen. Mr. Dhar may have won last time, however it was a completely new era. Yes, he was an optimistic person, except he had so many other problems to concentrate on. He had yet to meet an officer traumatized by the SIMs. The new order specifically stated that the program was altered.

The reports he read indicated that some were scarred by the SIM the year it was banned; however it was a low percentage. With today’s statistics, the SIMs were not as bad as they used to be and he knew that the FAILs he read were FAILs that were well deserved. He had to differentiate his feelings from being a person and from being a Captain. These FAILs could not be integrated with his crew if he wanted a successful mission.

His senior staff all received a PASS and non got a compatibility transfer.

As a person, he wasn’t pro-SIM; however being Captain forced him to acknowledge that he wasn’t anti-SIM either. The reason on why he hated it was mainly because of its insane inconvenience and timing. It made everything that was becoming more stable, into a fragile foundation all over again. This ‘ _command team taking it simultaneously thing’_ was the epitome of bullshit that added the cherry to it all.

Worst of all, he hated it because of the way Spock’s fear made every alarm ring in his head. He hated that look, especially since he promised himself that he would do whatever it took to never see it again.

 

It looked incredibly wrong on Spock.

 

Jim sighed and exited his room, ready to fight against another obstacle. His life seemed to be always full of those lately. Don’t fall here, don’t forget to accept pending transfers there, don’t faint here, don’t ask his friends about their SIMs there, don’t touch Spock too much here, don’t blush too much …

 

“Good morning, Jim.”

 

Facial hair would have been the best armor.

 

Spock was ready in the living room, standing there in perfectly ironed silver, fixing the sleeves on his wrist. The Commander looked less tired and more like his usual self.

 

“Good morning, Mr. Spock!” Jim smiled in an intentional goofy manner that deserved every expression that easily translated into _‘have you lost it?’_

Uncaring of his hyper demeanor, he approached Spock and placed his hands on that perfectly combed hair, then proceeded to straighten Spock’s peaked cap.

Jim wanted to laugh when Spock looked up at him with slightly wider eyes. He also wanted to laugh at his stupid craving to stare into them forever. Soon, he found himself stepping back quicker than what could be considered the norm. What happened to not touching Spock?

If Spock asked, he would lie through his teeth and say that he had a wonderful sleep – he wasn’t in his bed for the last three hours wondering why it was so empty. He definitely didn’t spend the last three hours staring at the door, despising it for the border it was.

Everything just caved on Jim in that moment. He had been smooth sailing these perpetual issues for months and it turned out to be all on vain. In a time that it was mandatory to be strong, he now wanted everything to go back to normal. He wanted his own blood, he wanted his health fully returned, he wanted his old home to not be a place that made him heave, he wanted his ship, and most of all, he wanted the ability to stand near his commander without this … taunting eagerness to just reach out.

 

Something must have stopped within Spock because the Commander’s fingers didn’t move, wrist cuffs still open. After a couple a couple blinks, a weak noise came from Spock before returning to his cuffs. “Thank you, Captain.”

 

Jim walked to his door and opened it wide so Spock could walk out before him. “Do not fret Commander for it will be a great couple of days.”

 

“Your optimism continues to surprise me, Captain.” Spock said as he trod past the door.

 

“Well how about this for optimism, Commander?” Jim animatedly jumped in front of Spock with a grin once they reached the driveway. “We are going to kick ass.”

 

Spock quizzically gazed at him, his movements unaltered as he walked straight to their destination. “I am certain you would endeavor to do so in your usual theatrical fashion.”

 

Jim mischievously tsked at the man in front of him. “Everyone has a little drama in them, Mr. Spock.”

 

“If you are referring specifically to me, then I must inform you that I do not have any amount of ‘drama’ inside me.” Spock continued to walk to Jim’s craft, forcing Jim to start walking backwards.

 

He patted Spock’s chest lightly. “The SIM might bring it out.”

 

“Captain, I cannot foresee myself acting in that manner.”

 

It was then that Jim felt his craft behind him. He looked stupid for not noticing it earlier. Spock barely acknowledged the clumsiness and walked to his side of Jim's craft. The whole gesture of Spock ignoring his own craft alongside Jim's made him melt. He automatically assumed he would have to bother Spock into riding together.

 

Sitting in his seat, Jim powered on his craft the moment Spock entered beside him and shut the door.

 

As Captain, Jim understood that he would be evaluated as everyone else. As a person, he fucking knew that Spock and him would receive some leeway. He wanted nothing from Starfleet before – awards, acknowledgements, the celebrity statuses were neither necessary nor needed. Some consideration during the SIM would be thanks enough, because if it were not for them …

Well -

Was there anymore to say?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~X


	25. SIM - PART SEVENTEEN

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why another update??  
> Because I finished this essay early, and I'm crazy - that's why!  
> Warning: Violence *rolls eyes*  
> Song: It's Time by Imagine Dragons
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> ~X

** SIM - PART SEVENTEEN **

 

  
 

 _Commencing mission people_.

 

Jim sat in the back of the base’s second truck with the most irritating voice blasting through his earpiece. This was the first time he’s traveled since his arrival to Warehouse 15. The way the council assembled themselves was pure synchronization. With great effort, Jim caught up with everything eventually, his fatigue included and all.

 

_ Okay, I see … shit I see our truck. They’re using our own truck! _

 

He could tolerate Steven’s voice though. He fisted his hands on his lap while the ground shook underneath. The only thing Jim could see was the back of Ana and Spock’s head.

 

 _They’re parking behind one of the houses._ _The one with the dragon graffiti on the side._ Steven continued. _Three of them -_

 

Terrence interjected with a louder voice. _No – four of them are exiting the vehicle._

 

_ … You guys are so outnumbered because the truck moved again. There are people in there man. _

 

Jim exchanged an annoyed look with Markus across from him.

 

“I’m really appreciating the optimism here.” Markus announced.

 

Jim noticed Spock roll his shoulders. “Terrence and Steven – I ask that you endeavor to report without the unnecessary commentary.”

 

 _“Yes, Chief!”_ They said in unison.

 

“How do they look like?” Jim asked.

 

_ “As expected, the same woman we saw is with them. There are three men accompanying her.”  _

__

_ “Correction, the one guy with the long grey hair is leading them instead. They don’t look like much of a threat.”  _

 

The Camp Salvatus leader only got off his ass to give sermons. They must mean serious business since the man decided to actually walk.

 

The scenery outside the window was a reminder of his previous isolation. The webs, endless sand and darkness lingering in the buildings made Jim turn away from it all. That wasn’t his life anymore. It belonged to all those that had yellow eyes and four paws.

 

_ “Guns. A lot of guns on their backs you guys.” _

 

“Weapons?” Spock inquired while doing a sharp turn.

 

Anastasia scoffed. “Time to strap up boys.”

 

Turns out … Jim’s phaser theory was fully confirmed when she took out the polished phaser with a nefarious grin.

 

Spock used his fingers to fix his loose earpiece. “We will arrive in three minutes and fifteen seconds. Take this time to properly prepare.” He ordered them with a sharp, clear tone.

 

Markus didn’t neglect his proneness for usual banter while he proceeded to strap his rifle to his back. “What happened to peaceful negotiation Chief?”

 

“It would be illogical to eliminate the possibility of illogical behavior.” Spock said without looking back. “Especially when they deem the weapons as _an impenetrable border of everlasting light.”_

 

Markus cracked his knuckles. “Touché.”

 

Jim’s right foot started to shake, except this time, it was voluntary. He was ready. He was prepared for whatever would take place. Nevertheless, he still feared it.

 

He would actually question his brain if he were fearless. Fear was a familial emotion, considering how many lights almost forced Jim to join the Earth in ash. He clenched onto the guns he hasn’t had the privilege of seeing in months. His connection with them was identical to his connection with Bud.

 

_ “They’ve arrived. Karim’s not with them.” _

 

“I predicted as such.” Spock sighed. “They obtain the leverage and feel the situation weighing in their favor.”

 

Jim let out a huge breath of air. Karim was the gambling chip in this twisted game. There was no reason to kill the only leverage they had so hopefully the kid was alive … somewhere.

 

The question remained - who would win?

 

… and at what cost?

“The leader never intended to bring Karim.” Jim sighed.

 

“Jim.” Markus breathed out. “Does this guy have a freakin’ name or what?”

 

Anastasia turned back and faced him; all while Jim could feel Spock looking at him from the corner of his eye. They were waiting for a name that would never come.

 

“Nope.”

 

. 

.

.

 

Jim exited the truck after Spock parked it behind one of the homes so they could walk to their destination. The last thing they wanted to do was show these people that they had ample resources.

Karim already showed them one of their cars. That was a clear symbol right there since fuel was a rarity to find. They may desire for more. After all, the training base, Warehouse 15 was the perfect place, especially after him and Steven’s recent actions.

 

The group walked together to their destination and saw the four Camp Salvatus members. The leader narrowed his eyes when he caught sight of Jim.

Jim took his hands out of his pockets and glared right back. He was never scared of the guy. The only thing he was ever scared of was this man’s skill to manipulate the minds of so many with little to no difficulty.

The leader’s words had power, and Jim would be a total idiot to deny that.

 

“There is a chance that Karim’s in that truck.” Anastasia whispered.

 

“Negative by fifty-eight percent.” Spock answered, keeping his voice low. They were close after all.

 

The leader was the first to take a few steps forward. His perfect teeth flashed in a mischievous grin. As usual, that silver hair was as disheveled as ever. The leader stretched his thin tanned arms and dramatically bowed down.

 

“Well, hello there.” The leader said in an eerie cheery manner. “Thank you so much for coming.”

 

“You have someone that belongs with us.” Spock spoke first out of the group, the wind pulling his hair across his face.

 

This felt like a western draw.

 

Spock continued, “State your intentions with Karim and with us, so that we can conclude this meeting before the lights arrive.”

 

Gigi looked at Jim up and down while clenching her rifle. Honestly, she glared at every single one of them, especially Ana, whom was now sizing her up. The atmosphere could spark a charge more powerful than the lights merging into a colorful sphere.

 

“Kirk!” The leader yelled, apparently happy… ? "I thought you burned! I was stepping on sand thinking you were under my feet!"

 

Jim would have gawked if he wasn't expecting such behavior.

 

“We missed you so much!”

 

He frowned at the attention. “Can’t say the same.”

 

The other two people with the leader were unrecognizable. Jim could see that the leader’s been recruiting more sheep. It’s a good thing that the cougars were indefinitely hungry.

 

“You just left us.” The leader tsked. “Not nice.”

 

“Cut the bullshit.” Markus interjected with intense scorn. Jim noticed Markus’ muscles tighten from his grip on the gun.

 

The leader rolled his eyes and stepped back, once again surrounded by the bodyguard members. “We had the most intriguing guest come over. He offered us a home, shelter, food and most importantly, air!”

 

Jim squinted. Why the hell were they here anyways?

 

“You have lost your home.” Spock deduced.

 

“I have people to take care of!” The leader randomly raised his voice. He was still as unstable as ever. “As we waited for the cleansing to be complete, we lost air. We ran out the second God’s weapons returned to Him. No matter anyways, because I have met more people worthy to be family. Almost double you see. Kirk knows how many we used to be."

 

Over a hundred people.

 

Jim didn’t miss Spock’s slight cringe. “That is unfortunate however, I inquire as to the purpose of kidnapping the very person who endeavored to bring you to us – to bring you aid.”

 

“We can’t alter our beliefs to live side by side with sympathizers!” Gigi snapped.

 

Haven’t they ever heard of the saying ‘beggars can’t be choosers’?

 

Jim instinctively stepped closer to Spock the moment he saw the leader gaze at Spock with a scrutinizing eye. He didn’t want to guess what they might have known.

 

“We are Camp Salvatus.” Gigi continued. “We are more than that!”

 

The bodyguard looking people pointed their weapons directly at them. Reflexes forced everyone to reflect the gesture. The weight of the weapon in Jim’s hand was nostalgic. While everyone pointed their weapons at each other, Jim was the only one who pointed it directly to the leader’s head.

 

“Our beliefs are none of your concern, as your beliefs are none of mine. Now – “ Spock walked into dangerous territory by getting closer to the leader, hands in his coat pockets, probably holding his weapons. “We have every intention to be peaceful. Here is how you will proceed. You are to bring Karim here. Afterwards we will all calmly disperse back into our own territories.”

 

“You have to give us what we want first. Think you’re up for that?” The leader teased.

 

Jim wanted to kill. He’s never wanted that so much until this very moment. This man was breathing Spock’s air, and threatening their well-being. Karim was their gambling chip, and he found himself extremely disgusted. He should have taken this guy out when they were sleeping under the same roof.

 

Gigi was wrong. This was no longer _Camp Salvatus._ This was free ground, and Jim would do anything he damn well pleased.

 

“Your base.” The leader declared. “All sympathizers would have to leave. Those who wish to join me can do so if they wish. We both know that sympathizers can adapt once shown the right path.” He added as an afterthought, like he was somehow doing them a favor. “You have until dawn to decide.”

 

Everyone’s eyes widened, except Spock.

 

No, the Chief remained content. “You kidnap a member of my base. You demand our attention in order to iterate your weak intimidation tactics. We have not arrived to this destination to appease your ego. You claim to be the leader of your people and yet have no objections of leading them to war?”

 

“Wars are sometimes necessary.”

 

_ “Chief, they’re coming!” _

 

The frantic warning from Steven made them all hyper aware.

 

Spock narrowed his eyes at all of them. “Then you will become nothing but a nameless casualty.”

 

A loud whistle came from Gigi before she quickly shot to the sky. The floor vibrated when a truck arrived at full speed, firing their weapons. Naturally they all ducked.

 

Ana shot her phaser to one of the bodyguards next to Gigi, and the guy never got up.

Jim targeted the leader and grazed his arm, blood splattering on the sand.

 

The members of Camp Salvatus jumped at the back of the truck, and Spock started to shoot at the tires of the retreating vehicle.

 

While running back to their own truck, the yell Jim heard was a satisfying one.

 

. 

.

.

  
 

“Shit, shit, fucking shit!” Markus growled as he pressed weight on his palm above Ana’s waist.

 

She was shot.

 

Spock was on maximum speed. “Have Dr. Cardenas and the team prepared before entry.”

 

 _“Yes, Chief!”_ Steven yelled.

 

 _“I can’t believe they wanted our whole damn base!”_ Terrence hissed, his anger vibrating in Jim’s eardrums.

 

Anastasia moaned, clinging to her waist over the crimson drenched shirt. “They had the … fucking ... nerve.” She coughed blood with every word, extremely ambitious to let them hear her opinion. Red strands found a way out of her ponytail and onto her sweat covered face.

 

“Don’t talk, Ana.” Markus urged her.

 

“How dare they … talk about … God … like tha...t?”

 

“Ana, please.”

 

Ana only said one more thing before she passed out. “Love you too.”

 

Stress, but not too much stress. Jim continued his mantra, pissed that his body decided to start acting funny when clearly someone was having it much worse than him.

 

He clenched his eyes hoping he wouldn’t add more shit to their table.

 

. 

.

.

  
 

Spock’s room was flooded. Soon there would be a line all the way to the library. Savitra and Katherine bombarded Markus as to what the hell was going on. Turns out that while they were gone, panic took over.

 

Kumar, Savitra’s son, was the one who noticed that Karim wasn’t in his shift. From there, they noticed the council’s disappearance and Steven’s odd return to the Security room. The puzzles were put in place, especially when Ana returned almost _dying_. Her crash cart did nothing to dissipate the fear going through the base.

 

Jim left the medical room and walked down the line into Spock’s room with Markus next to him. The council member refused to leave until Ana was in stable condition, and so she was, hence their return. Clayton and Terrence happened to be on one side in the room, looking at Spock with open palms, clearly exasperated.

 

He overheard some disturbing stuff, particularly when Clayton stated that all attempts to retrieve Karim were not strategic - The whole base would be at risk.

 

In Jim’s mind, the whole base was already at risk – they may as well get Karim!

 

Spock noticed their entrance then looked at everyone inside. “Leave us.” The Chief requested.

 

Terrence stepped forward with a gape, not seeming to have an interest in leaving. Eventually, Clayton was the one who grabbed Terence’s arm and led the younger man outside.

 

Jim and Spock stood on opposite sides of the room.

 

“Jim – “

 

“I don’t give a fuck what they’re saying." He spoke before Spock could continue. "We’re getting him.”

 

Spock shut his mouth, blinking again.

 

“You can’t fight me on this, Spock.” Jim added with a frown. Regret formed a dense membrane over his soul. This had to be done.

 

“The only _fight_ I plan to pursue is with Camp Salvatus.” Spock answered.

 

The automatic rebuttal was fully prepared under Jim’s tongue, except here he was, speechless that the Chief agreed with him without hesitation or argument.

 

“Go…good.” He stuttered. “Because I have a plan.” He said after he shook some sense into himself.

 

Markus skeptically looked at him. “And what would that be?”

 

“They want us to meet up at dawn. Well, I say that we show up a little earlier.” He suggested with a small smirk to his face. While Markus ranted about the weapons necessary from the base to attack, Jim had every intention to use more powerful ones.

 

Spock narrowed his eyes with a tilted head, as if questioning when Jim lost his sanity.

 

Jim shrugged, because logic was something of a rarity nowadays.

 

Markus questioned him. “How in the hell would we do that if we’d burn before being of any use? We have more people wanting to come, and we can’t allow that if it’s night!”

 

Hopefully in this plan if everything worked – then they wouldn’t need to bring valued members of the base. “We have enough daylight.“ Jim informed them. “I suggest we get some custom fur coats.”

 

Markus scratched his head then looked at Spock, obviously waiting for some type of clarification.

 

“We must kill the cougars.” Spock concluded with full understanding.

 

Jim took out a dagger that he stole from the weapons stash. He lifted it up, allowing the fluorescent light to kiss the tip.

 

“We must kill the cougars.” He confirmed.

. 

.

.

 

The cafeteria was full. It became extremely awkward when Markus, Spock and him walked down the big room, the aura becoming extremely heavy. There were too many eyes on them, and no matter how many times Jim became victim to it, he would never get used to it either.

Steven and Terrence stood side by side in the middle of the formed circle. Adriana looked at Jim for a brief second before returning her eyes on her father. Katherine was next to her alongside Savitra at the border of the inner circle.

Most of the adolescents stood on the table, looking down with various emotions cast across them all.

There was something amiss.

 

Spock breathed in, his posture tightening up, more straight and spilling out pure authority. Everyone was waiting.

They were waiting for their Chief to speak.

 

“Today, the council and I are to debark on a critical mission. We have decided that marching to war at dawn would guarantee valued lives lost.” Spock began. Jim wasn’t isolated, making it clearer that Jim was in fact council. All eyes switched to Jim for another second, before returning to Spock. He wasn’t just Jim anymore.

 

They saw him as they first did – the immune light runner.

 

“I am certain that many desire to partake in this however, our strategy requires that we leave during the night, which is still forbidden. No one is to exit the base without protection.”

 

Jim couldn’t look certain people in the eye. Many were ready with their chests out and shoulders broad to get Karim back. Officers like Clayton no longer looked like base members, but showed characteristics of their original occupation pre-invasion. If they retrieved enough fur, then they could participate. No matter what, one thing stood clear - no one was going into the night naked.

 

The atmosphere grew despondent and by Spock’s expression, Jim knew he felt it too. The base needed to feel more confidence.

 

Spock let out an unexpected loud exhale, making Jim do a double take.

The Chief looked at the crowd around him, his brows creasing and eyes piercing with determination.

 

“Outside these walls await vicious people who do not possess any worthy characteristics, and have the false assumption that they are capable of stealing everything we have devotedly built with our own hands.”

 

Bursts of wall shaking roars broke out, fists aiming high.

 

“Everything we have risked our lives to maintain!”

 

The quake of noise made Jim tremble with wide eyes. He could feel the power going through his body from their charged auras.

 

“They have not only kidnapped one of our own, but they have categorized us as _sympathizers_ and because of this, we do not deserve life, let alone _peace_.”

 

Spock spoke with his head high, observing every single one of them, eye contact direct with a goal in mind. Spock wanted to reassure them and let them know that they’d win.

Jim believed every second of it too.

 

“This assembly calls themselves _Camp Salvatus_ – a blaring sign of their delusion. They deem themselves a salvation when they sit on thrones built from the burnt bones of innocents!”

 

Everyone from within the circle joined in on the shouts, clamoring with vibrating emotion.

 

“Little do they know that the illogical practice is over!”

 

Markus’ scream was the closest, therefore the loudest and Jim was too deep in his stupor to flinch.

 

“They believe that the lights are the only things to fear.” Spock nodded as the rest regarded him with approval. “Once we have Karim rightfully returned, we will show them whom they should truly fear.”

 

Jim couldn’t prevent his sudden shudder when Spock locked eyes with him, boring into his soul. Spock never looked away from him, and Jim found himself stuck with nothing but awe.

His breathing started to speed up as he stared at the Chief with new eyes. Never in his age did he think he would aspire to be like someone, but here he stood, in the end of the world, wanting to learn everything about this man.

 

“And they should fear _Warehouse 15.”_

 

There was no cheering. Only chants filled with earnest appreciation. This had every chance of being a highly addictive drug. Now Jim understood why the leader constantly indulged in this.

 

“Warehouse 15!” They repeated with intense purposefulness.

 

This had the ability to renew anybody, no matter how broken.

It would have renewed Jim, except he felt that it was a _return._ A part of him detected familiarity without reason and that scared him more than the mission.

He also found himself so full of love, that if the lights burned him, the love would still remain, floating and fighting harder than anything against the lightning swirls above his colorless ashes.

 

“Warehouse 15!”

 

_God, what have I done in this world to deserve someone so precious?_

 

. 

.

.

 

Archer muted the chants and found that he could only blink with a tightened mouth. This was the side of Spock that made him believe that the Commander should obtain his own ship one day.

Even though it was obviously wishful thinking.

Kirk stood in the effervescence circle, surrounded by complete worship and the Captain could only stand there and stare at Spock.

They hypnotized the other. There was no way they would ever serve on separate ships.

 

Slow claps came from beside him. Cartwright was the one to break the silence, slamming his palms together with closed eyes.

Archer examined the room and noticed that he wasn’t the only one impacted my Spock’s words.

 

Counselor Viik couldn’t look at the screen anymore.

 

. 

.

.

 

The SIM Med room was in anarchy. All professionalism was thrown out the cursed tinted windows. Leonard scanned around and actually saw the older team members join in their cheers with the younger ones.

 

"Wait ... they're actually going to rescue him?" Dr. Lee stood there with his jaw on the floor. "Never in my years - "

 

Dr. Kim nudged him, childishly sticking her tongue at him. “I told you they’d get Karim.”

 

Leonard thoroughly understood their excitement. This was a moment that guaranteed to everyone that Spock and Jim weren’t just their words. Every crewmember was important no matter how difficult the situation. Of course Leonard already knew this. He’d seen proof too many times to count. Those that never served on the Enterprise hesitated to believe such rumors, despite the reports to back them up.

 

_“And they should fear **Warehouse 15.”**_

 

The hobgoblin had many layers, and one by one, they were being shed for the world. SIM Spock would be someone he would never forget. Underneath the science blue, this image would forever flicker underneath it.

Despite all the chaos, Jim and Spock could only see each other in the middle of the base, and Leonard found himself rooting for them in a way.

Obviously he wanted them to succeed in the SIM and PASS, but he also wanted this shambolic thing they made to resonate in the real world, and he had a feeling that the transition would be near impossible. He dreaded the mess. Spock would recoil in shame. Jim might do the same. The two were the epitome of stubborn, except in these screens, they were freakin’ meshed together, blending into one - amplifying the characteristics they already possessed. Unsurprisingly, they were once again a team.

And this team would fight Round Four.

. 

.

.

 

> _**Reporter:** _ Sir, sir? How do you think your notion’s going to win this time?
> 
>  
> 
> _**Mr. Dhar:**_ By common sense.
> 
>  
> 
> _**Reporter:** _ But you must have considered how impossible it might be. Your previous clients were Academy graduates that argued on the harsh practice. Because of the SIMs reintroduction literally everyone of every position is involved.
> 
>  
> 
> _**Mr. Dhar:** _ So?
> 
>  
> 
> _**Reporter:** _ There are more officers who might agree with you, but won’t join you because they could possibly face reprimand. They could lose their mission posts. There are senior staff members that could be terminated, Captains unable to embark on their missions. In vernacular, they have much more to lose.
> 
>  
> 
> _**Mr. Dhar:** _ I am well aware.
> 
>  
> 
> **_Reporter_ :** And because of this, the youngest ones have grown more fearful, resulting in zero comments. How do you expect to win something if there is no one in this generation to use to prove your point?
> 
>  
> 
> _**Mr. Dhar:** _ Listen, I am only going to say this once. I have full confidence in Starfleet and the intelligent officers in it. Someone will step up and explain the wrongness in this invading practice.
> 
>  
> 
> _**Reporter:** _ There may not be any wrongness to consider since the SIM programs have been altered this time, thus making it more humane. No one said anything. Even if not, you’re going to need more than one.
> 
>  
> 
> _**Mr. Dhar:** _ One is all I need.
> 
>  
> 
> _**Reporter:** _ …
> 
>  
> 
> _**Mr. Dhar:**_ It’s called ‘The Domino Effect’ sweetheart, and it’s a beautiful thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't ever not write a BAMF!Spock - I don't know why.  
> It's just so damn appealing.  
> ~X


	26. SIM - PART EIGHTEEN

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s update time!  
> Song: Must Save Jane – A New Life (THIS SONG FED MY SOUL)  
> Warning: Wow – ummm were do I start? Okay, Camp Salvatus deserves a warning in itself - Violence – butchered animals… I think that’s it. 
> 
> Enjoy …?
> 
> ~X

** SIM - PART EIGHTEEN **

 

 

They shot at a bunch of mule deer, sparking their panic. As a large group of them ran, they attracted a surge of cougars. Spock explained that they must have migrated from the mountains because of the abundance of food and the absence of humans since the invasion, hence the lack of threat – being humans and guns.

Markus howled under the tangerine sky, enjoying the wines of the fourth dying cougar. The council member was clearly investing all his energy in this task, avoiding all thoughts of Ana.

Jim felt a personal hatred for those animals, not even thinking about the option of killing deer instead.

 

 _“I’m still blind you guys.”_ Steven declared from the Security room. He couldn’t see them this deep. _“But I did see that Karim was taken out of the truck and placed in the corner of the building, in a separate shed. I guess there’s an entrance in there too because they’ve never used it before from this footage here. You should see a dark wooden, green double-door leading underground.”_

 

“We cannot afford to seek out another animal. It has taken an average of twenty six minutes for each, and the lights will descend in thirty.”

Jim and Markus observed their panting Chief attempt to get off the sand and dead leaves. Jim swiftly held Spock’s upper arm to help him up.

Spock flicked his gaze to Jim’s palm and thanked him. Jim could only nod, unable to speak from his excessive breathing. They were all so exhausted.

 

And the job wasn’t even complete yet.

 

Markus flipped out the biggest knife he retrieved from the base and started cutting into the dead animals, the squishy noises being of little bother to him.

Spock on the other hand rolled his sleeves and start to cut another cougar with a clenched jaw, and Jim somehow could tell that Spock was holding his breath too.

He wished he could hold his breath for a prolonged period of time. The scent of raw meat and blood was nothing but a false alarm for what his body wouldn’t hopefully do. He dug his dagger, starting from the cougar’s neck and began to slide down with messy precision.

 

Clayton described in gory detail on how to skin an animal, especially ones as big as these. Unfortunately, there were no stores that had an abundance of fur, considering the current laws (or old ones since laws no longer existed) where corporations had to go through heavy and costly tariffs to sell them.

Maybe that fur coat wearing lady retrieved it oversees, or it was a faux coat … a risk Jim had no intention in taking. The lights weren’t just going to stop and ask Jim what he was.

 

To burn or not to burn …?

 

Jim tried to prevent his heaving. This was nothing compared to what Karim could be going through. He craved to slap the kid and hug him, whispering an endless trail of apologies with intense reprimand.

 

He was so conflicted.

. 

.

.

 

Once the fur was rinsed of blood, they quickly placed them under their clothes, making them seem somewhat puffy.

Two words – Sticky and stinky.

 

Spock looked under his shirt with disdain. “There is a possibility that the lights were reprogrammed for maximum efficiency. The hypothesis of this armor’s effect is based off of the first attack out of three.”

 

They all sat in the awful smelling truck in the fiery night. The lights were trickling down and paranoia announced itself between them with an ecstatic energy. Spock was right - The lights could have adapted like some sort of virus.

 

“For utmost clarification, let us reiterate the plan.”

 

Considering that it was Jim’s plan, he vacuumed air into the spaces of his teeth with a weird sound then spoke. “My part is to provide the distraction. Once I enter I will demand for Karim’s return, otherwise Markus here – “

 

“- is going to blow the fuck out of those windows.” Markus announced without an inch of regret. Jim had a feeling that Markus would think differently if Ana were here and healthy. Then again, who knew how many people this man had killed prior to the invasion. The guy was ex-Marine.

The council member was to park outside of the building and aim his rifle, waiting for the order to shatter the glass, enabling the lights' entry and committing ... mass murder…

 

_God_

 

He hated them so much. So, so much, but he never had the intention to _judge_ them. It wasn’t his position, therefore making him the biggest hypocrite out of all the humans left.

 

The Camp looked to their leader as some sort of messenger. If Jim claimed he could control the lights, he would be the more powerful one and it would result in a camp dispute at worst.

This plan would guarantee no lives lost if ‘ _someone’_ didn’t want to be completely insane.

 

“Logically, they should comply.” Spock’s lips tighten. His skepticism was blatant, and Jim couldn’t blame him, especially after seeing some Camp Salvatus members for the first time. “While this is taking place, I will endeavor to remain near the shed, awaiting Karim’s release. If it never comes, then I will retrieve him myself.”

 

Spock was deeply troubled.

 

“If they don’t agree, then it’s not our fault. We are protecting our own, Spock. Those people may not deserve to be burned, but we sure as hell don’t deserve it more.” He clarified.

 

An electric shock waved through the truck, making them all jerk. Death in the form of luminescence began its dance, using its new home as the stage.

 

Theory was one thing, but it was now time to test out the armor. Jim inched up from his sitting position. It wouldn’t make sense to just open the door and see what happened. The lights grew dormant from the lack of humans around. It would take something for them to notice him.

 

He had to run.

 

Movement was the biggest attractant to those things.

 

Suddenly, Spock clung to his shirt, preventing movement to the door on his side.

 

“I will be the first to exit the vehicle.” Spock declared, breathing in as he stared at the swirls in the sky.

 

Before Jim could retort, Markus forcibly held him back.

 

“Yes, Chief.”

 

One slam of the door later, Spock was gone. Jim plastered both palms on one of the windows, and watched Spock sprint down the open field with wide eyes. At first, he wondered how he was dubbed the lightrunner, when Spock gracefully exceeded the average speed of anyone he’s ever seen. The glowing swirls abandoned the night sky and flew down in Spock’s direction. It was then that he observed Spock eventually come to a stop.

 

Him and Markus held their breaths, preparing themselves for the worst scenario.

A shining ruby swirl abruptly stopped in front of Spock’s face, centimeters from his nose, and then spontaneously multiplied around him. Neon yellows clashed with it, illuminating Spock’s frozen frame in a subtle orange. Jim saw Spock’s chest moving rapidly, his gaze uninterrupted by the quick swishes.

 

Jim’s never seen a single being be this close to the light long enough to show its color reflected back on the target, except for that one woman. Besides that, the only thing that could reflect the lights’ colors would be the ash that exploded within seconds, depending on the color and their level of starvation.

The circles accelerated in speed, picking Spock’s hair up, his coat swaying with it. Jim could taste the blood in his mouth from biting his tongue down too hard. Spock was glowing with them.

 

_Spock was safe._

Jim knew in that moment that he would do whatever had to be done to keep the base safe. To keep Spock safe.

 

“They’ll never leave.” Jim whispered after he took off his earpiece. “Even if we succeed, they’ll come back … eventually” He hoped his hidden message reached to the council member.

 

Markus rested his palm on Jim’s shoulder. “Understood.”

 

Jim showed him a tight smile. After - both of them jumped out and ran, eventually racing up against each other, letting the moonlight accompanied winds kiss their skin. Not thinking straight, Jim didn’t stop in front of Spock, but tackled him in a suffocating hug, exhaling sharply with relief. He buried his fingers in the wrinkles of Spock’s coat, embracing in a moment of euphoria, engulfed by the mighty rainbow.

 

_Spock was safe._

 

Markus howled to the sky as he twirled in circles, matching the lights' movements, his cocoa skin glowing in interchanging cyan and teal.

 

They reclaimed the night.

. 

.

.

 

 _“You okay, new guy?”_ Terrence unbelievably sounded concerned as Jim walked up to the eroded building doors.

 

“Yep.” He mumbled

 

_ “Then get ready to preach the bullshit.” _

 

He wasn’t ready, however this was as ready as he’d ever be.

Jim quickly tucked his earpiece in his chest pocket so the rest could still hear him. He pressed his sweaty palms on the door and pushed in. It made sense for them to not bother with locking it. Any threat that could possibly penetrate their borders would be burned before they had the chance.

 

He knew he caught everyone’s attention since the chatter ceased completely. He put his hands up the moment rifles said hello to his cranium.

Jim was right – the camp basically doubled in size. Screams erupted in the room as people he recognized scattered to the doors, attempting to shut them as fast as possible. A gust of wind hit Jim’s back after a loud slam.

 

“How ...?”

 

They hesitated to touch him. Jim observed that some feared him even.

 

“He walks in the night!”

 

A shattering yell ignited from the back, and in seconds the bottom floor was empty.

The only ones that remained in the room were Gigi and the leader. Only Gigi had a weapon in her hand, and she had no qualms in showing it off while stalking towards Jim.

 

“How dare you?”

 

“Kirk?” The leader raked his long silver strands back, his thin chapped lips forming into a scary smile. His bandaged arm was dipped in old burgundy. “Is this how you have survived without us for so long? You didn't tell us you were immune.” With the leader a couple inches away from him, the man sniffed. “You stink, Kirk.”

 

Jim gulped, but kept his head up, staring right into those dead eyes. “You know why I’m here.”

 

“You must tell us how you walk in the night.” The leader urged, stalling for a brief moment before he continued sniffing.

 

Jim sighed. He could tell that he was going to get nowhere like this. “Listen here!” He yelled to the whole place. A couple heads popped out of the corners, curiosity and fear etched on their unhealthy faces. “You have someone I want. If you don't give him to me right now, right here, _they_ will come, destroying everything in its path.”

 

Gasps filled the room, and the leader stepped back with a shaken breath.

 

“Impossible.” They yelled. “He lies!” They stated.

 

“I have discovered something when I left, _leader_. I can communicate with the lights. They have chosen me, and will do what I ask ... only if they agree.” Jim emphasized to add to the intimidation. He really hoped Spock was close to Karim and safe. “And they sure agree with me now. Do not test me.”

 

“Give him the kid!” They roared, angry voices echoing in the walls.

 

If the leader wasn’t going to choose correctly, then those few would do it for him. It would be civil war over Karim’s head.

 

The leader switched back with a hiss. “I forbid it!”

 

“He will kill us all!” An older woman squeezed through the crowd, gaping from the immanent threat.

 

“Yea!”

 

“Listen to our leader!”

 

“We will burn!”

 

“Fire!”

 

"Keep the kid."

 

"We don't succumb to sympathizers!"

 

“We need this base!” The leader finally declared, inserting himself in the debate with arms wide.

 

Jim internally smiled when he realized that some the camp was having none of it. Unfortunately, an alarming amount were more scared of what Jim could do, instead of understanding why. Didn't they care that they took lives? That they kidnapped a fifteen year old? An orphaned one at that?

 

Then they wanted Warehouse 15 emptied out for them ...?

 

There was no getting through to them in the long run. None.

 

Gigi pointed a rifle to Jim’s head, sparking more screams - Half of them demanding his death whereas the others begged her to not kill someone who was clearly gifted. “If you have this ability … if these lights, God’s very weapons avoid you, then why do you favorite sympathizers?”

 

That was actually a good fucking question. The crowd shut up after she announced her query. He would have to answer questions exactly just like the leader did to win this over.

 

And that was by not answering at all.

 

“I do not have to answer to someone who is not worthy.” Jim hissed. “Whomever the lights choose to burn is their wish, and it would be an insult to question it. To do so would be the epitome of blasphemy.”

 

Gigi cringed, slightly lowering her weapon.

 

“Do you wish to question _Him_!??” The acid taste made him curl his tongue from using the higher entity he’s grown to love and respect as a petrifying murderer.

 

Everyone backed away from him in that moment, eyes wide and scared. The leader ordered them to bring Karim out, and not because it was right, but because enough of his camp would turn against him if he did otherwise. Jim could see his desperation to make this seem like it was _his_ choice. The crowd split apart, creating an empty trail.

 

Two large men emerged from the back, holding an exhausted Karim. The kid looked up at Jim with wide eyes and a flimsy smile. It was as if Karim was high as a light. Enough camp members wanted to stop the men from reaching Jim, obviously annoyed that they were giving up the kid. A couple roars came after, demanding that they keep the kid in order to retrieve the base. Jim may be a chosen one, but the rest of the Warehouse wasn't.

The leader only had to hold up a hand, and they all shut up.

 

Once he retrieved Karim in his arms, he carefully started to step back. The camp stayed away from him with awed expressions like he was some newly discovered fatal pathogen.

 

Hopefully Markus and Spock heard everything perfectly and were right outside with weapons ready. As the doors shut in front of him, Jim urged Karim to walk, not run to the truck where Markus had his fur shield ready.

 

“I didn’t tell them anything, I swear.” Karim mumbled a low cry, clinging to Jim for life. “This is all my fucking fault, man.”

 

Regrettably, he had to push the kid away. There wasn’t any time for this. A commotion took place behind him and Jim realized that the lights were flying down again.

Something caught their attention, and that something was Spock. Fearing the lights flying in their direction as well, Jim stripped off his shirt and chucked the fur over Karim's shoulders. He ran towards Spock instead of the truck.

There were two men attempting to beat the ever-loving shit out of his Chief near their other truck. In that moment, Jim moved with pure instinct - his brain not bothering to shuffle the rational with the insane.

 

Maybe he finally cracked, nevertheless he didn’t care.

 

He took out two pistols and shot at them, hitting their legs and abdomen. Thankfully, Spock wasn’t hit.

 

Spock turned around with a blood-splattered face, eyes widening when he saw Jim. He knew the lights would come for him after they burned his victims.

 

Jim _judged_ people.

 

He was too frozen to notice Spock running towards him, not caring to wipe the crimson paint. Hoping Spock would approach him in seconds, Jim shut his eyes. Whether the lights would arrive first or Spock’s cocoon, he was ready for impact.

 

The wind altered, signaling that Spock was by his side. A loud grunt ignited his eardrums, and in that moment he knew he was safe. The lights circled around him before swarming away. They looked at each other and took off.

 

“Run!”

 

They were almost ther --

 

“James!” Karim’s voice didn’t have that usual humorous tone, and Jim found that he missed it. “No!”

 

“Jim!” Markus’ distance howl worried him to heightening levels.

 

He knew he was clumsy, partly for biological reasons lately, however he was not aware of what he tripped on. All he knew was that there was sand in his mouth.

 

“Jim, Jim– speak Jim.”

 

Why was Spock pleading?

 

Why did he ache?

 

“Speak!”

 

His vocals abandoned him. The lights were retreating the skies. The moon ran away with them, and soon all the stars disappeared. Earth was falling into a black hole.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~X
> 
> Still love me?


	27. SIM - PART NINETEEN

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Graphic violence – Torture
> 
> Song: Empty by PVRIS
> 
> The train is getting so rocky – it might crash.
> 
> Instead of ‘Enjoy’ – I’ll just be happy if you can move to the next chapter after this.
> 
> ~X

** SIM - PART NINETEEN **

 

  
 

Spock could not allow these people to abduct or kill Jim, however he was faced with a life-altering dilemma. Dragging Jim would be inefficient; nevertheless he endeavored to do so despite logic. He would never in a thousand lives leave the one he knew would be his mate. He should have never pursued this mission if he truly desired to follow logic.

 

The gunshots descended from one of the windows and grazed Jim, causing him to hit his head on the floor from the fall.

 

Jim’s slowing breaths made him shudder. Spock looked around and decided to run to the truck they were currently using instead of the stolen one, since he was unaware of the keys’ location. Jim needed to be brought to safety. Spock would have not only endured, but welcomed his death if he knew his base and everyone in it would ultimately be safe.

 

_ “Fucking shoot up the place, Markus!” _

_ “They’re going to eventually find us, so break the goddamn windows!” _

 

Spock should have demanded Markus to disclaim Terrence and Steven’s unauthorized order, except his mind refused to cooperate. Was this what he was reduced to?

 

Long ago, he decided he would either remain alone or aid to sustain as much life as he could. To allow this would be against everything he believed in … and yet –

 

 _“Chief?”_ Markus awaited orders.

 

Spock continued to run. There was too much death.

 

_ “Sorry, Chief.”  _

 

He then realized that Markus was not awaiting his orders, but informing him of his decision. Spock discovered that he could not bear this.

 

Terrence and Steven screamed in unison. _ “Do it!” _

 

“Wait!”

 

Spock yelled in vain. It was too late.

 

He crashed into a wall and clenched his eyes, protecting Jim’s weak body from the raining shards of glass. This was the first time he was disobeyed by council.

 

The screams and sudden movements inside attracted the lights, and Spock looked up just in time to watch them trickle through the windows, sparking everything inside. The building remained intact, however the people burned.

He could hear the sand falling.

 

Feeling an unknown presence behind him, he turned around and saw the woman Jim called ‘Gigi’ pointing her weapon at him. The lights were distracted enough for her to venture outside.

 

He cringed when she realized that she had a phaser. Where and when she retrieved it, he would never know. He never had the opportunity to ask.

 

His nervous system crashed before he fell to the ground alongside Jim.

 

.

.

.

 

The first face he should have seen was Jim’s. The scornful face of the camp’s leader was mere inches away from him. It was particularly disturbing that this man was touching him as well. For the first time, he felt immense gratitude for the loss of his abilities. To look into a mind so corrupt would surely damage him.

 

He knew what he would have been able to discover in such a man. He had seen one version too many. Spock moved his face away, having zero interest to even give this man a chance to channel thoughts that consisted of melting skin and fire.

 

There were four people in the room with him. The leader, Gigi and a nameless scarred man that Spock immediately dubbed as ‘Scarface’ in dedication to Markus' witty humor. Considering how Markus and Karim were not here, he could only hope they were safe.

 

Jim was handcuffed to a shelf in this enclosed space. Spock hated that he became conscious after Jim, unable to provide comfort.

Surprisingly, Jim was shirtless, the fabric being used as a bandage over the dripping wound. Jim’s eyes were droopy and yet still had life. Those eyes became slightly bright when Spock received a clumsy smile.

 

“Despicable.” Scarface hissed, shaking his wrist before slapping Spock across the face. He clenched his teeth at the impact, a metallic taste started to develop on his tongue.

 

The leader looked at Spock with an index finger resting under his chin. “Out of all the people – “ The leader dramatically shook his head. “You’re not a person. The irony - you judged my people!”

 

Spock remained quiet. He knew that he was an individual – he was indeed a sentient being, and yet this man made the term exclusively synonymous with only being a human.

 

“You’re an alien!”

 

Spock spat out the blood that oozed from his cheek. “Undoubtedly.”

 

Two more painful waves came over him. He could tolerate this, except he could not conclude for precisely how long.

 

“How does an alien survive the lights? We burn _because_ of you!” The leader waved his hands around, pacing back and forth. “You judged my people!” He repeated.

 

There was an endless list of the things he could say, however he discovered that none would aid him.

 

“Say something!” Gigi interjected, desperately attempting to remain relevant to gain the approval of this man.

 

It was blatantly blaring.

 

“Where is your camp?”

 

Prior to the invasion Spock would have responded with his name, Starfleet status and identification number monotonously as the answer to every question, however he felt it improper to identify with something that no longer existed.

 

Instead, Spock decided to not answer, resulting in a crushing punch to his face. He heard his heart speed up by zero point six seconds.

 

“You!” Scarface pointed to Jim.

 

Panic covered Spock like a new layer of burning skin.

 

Scarface repeated the question, adding a more threatening tone, floating his fist near Jim. “Where is the base?”

 

Spock bit his tongue, staring at Jim, unable to hide his shameless fear. Jim was an emotional man – humans were emotional beings after all. Despite all of that, Jim showed that he could be logical as well. Jim already risked his life for them, and although Spock would never admit it if they were ever to escape… Jim’s logic was sound.

 

Reckless, inconsiderate, a clear undisguised sense of unworthiness and yet … logical. Spock now knew that he feared the possibility of himself speaking, in order to save Jim, more than Jim speaking to save himself.

 

Jim’s smirk was proof enough.

 

“I plead the fifth.”

 

The scream that came after vibrated through Spock's restrained body. Scarface punched directly into Jim’s wound. He tugged at the ropes, brazing his wrists with no success. The phantom pain returned to his gut.

 

“Where is your base?”

 

“Where?!” Gigi added.

  
Everyone had their eyes glued on Jim, but those red irritated eyes only gazed at Spock.

 

The leader twitched at Jim’s resistance. “Tell us, or so help me God – “

 

A low laugh erupted from Jim, even though he could barely lift his head. “God doesn’t listen to you.”

 

The agony pulsated through Spock again, again and again. He wanted to beg them to stop using Jim as gym equipment. His Jim could barely move, wailing after too many punches that no one could bear.

 

“Stop it.” The leader demanded as if hearing Spock’s inner cries.

 

Scarface stretched his palm, stepping back from Jim whom Spock knew to be bruised all over his torso. They had to escape. Jim would either go into shock, or bleed out in this room.

 

Whichever happened first - Jim would die.

 

The leader looked at Gigi and slowly nodded. Soon afterwards, Gigi took out a knife and stalked towards Spock with a blank look. Fortunately, she leaned down and tore his pants, beginning from his upper thigh.

 

As long as they did not see the fur under his shirt, he could face whatever they endeavored to do.

 

… That was until the metal floated one inch above his femoral artery. He physically stiffened. If he were to die in this room, Jim would undoubtedly join him soon after.

 

This situation was something he thought about. Prior to discovering the Warehouse, he has always remained on the run. This feeling was as familiar as the morning wind caressing his skin.

 

A part of him despised Jim for being here. Spock also knew that Jim despised him for it as well. They were robbing each other of a content death.

.

.

.

 

There was always that one physician in the room that asked permission to leave after the initial shock of Round Four. The teams changed, resulting in at least one new appointed member every SIM. It was not a secret. It’s just that no one would willingly speak of it. No one was allowed to outside of these walls.

As usual, that one person would not receive an answer.

 

> _Edmond Dhar continues to remain silent as to his lack of officers to back up his claims regarding the -_

 

"Turn that shit off." He barked.

 

Leonard had no interest in entertaining the nauseous man. Didn’t he know?

 

It was against regulation to leave during Round Four. The purpose of this team was mainly for Round Four.

 

_“God doesn’t listen to you.”_

 

He stood between Spock and Jim, his knuckles turning white as he clenched on each side of their biobeds. This was the very moment that would take them to the final level. This was the moment that would decide their grade.

 

.

.

.

 

Thick green blood dripped into the cracks of the shed, Jim’s screams disappearing and reemerging with an indiscernible pattern. Spock’s suffering was amplified and he trembled in the cold shed.

 

The room would move with subtle rumbles of the vibrant lights that have had more sustenance tonight than in the last year. Any subtle crack would ruin this place. Question was - would he be quick enough to protect Jim in his position? He could see that Jim did not have his fur.

 

Spock was so close to tearing the rope from his wrists. He just required more time.

 

He just –

 

The piercing shriek was a stab to Spock’s heart. Scarface was inserting his thumbs into Jim’s wound again.

 

Spock immediately bit his tongue just like before, but he knew he was getting too weak. The pain was a physical force trying to separate his closed lips. He was too weak to hold it in.

 

Soon - his screams merged with Jim’s perfectly, the air in his lungs deflating with each cry.

 

“Stop, stop, stop!” The leader ordered again.

 

Dead eyes looked at him, and Spock did not retain the energy to look back. His sliced thigh was far more interesting.

 

“I know what this is.” The leader announced.

 

They were exposed.

 

Gigi gaped between the two. “Wow.”

 

“I’ve seen enough of your kind to know when I have judged two that are … fused in a way.”

 

_Enough of your kind …_

 

How could an entire species range so wide with such dramatically different characteristics? Every single one was different. Some should not have existed.

 

‘Exhibit A’ pointed to him with a knowing smile.

 

He knew.

 

These phantom pains transformed into a perfect reflection of Jim’s within thirty-three minutes. Spock was discovering new information about this connection with every minute, unaware and uneducated in such matters.

 

This deranged man most probably knew of his limits more than him, having done this an unknown amount of times. The thought of him joining the statistic, and burning alongside Jim, was a terrifying one.

 

He could imagine it so vividly.

 

Witnessing fifty-seven occurrences would brand any mind with incredible detail.

 

“One more time, alien. I will let you go, if you let me know how you walked in the night. You will let me know where your base is. YOU. WILL. TELL. ME!”

 

Spock let his shoulders drop. Jim’s panting and silence reminded him that speaking was not an option.

 

“I haven’t done this in so long.” The leader jumped with excitement. “Get the cloth, Gigi.”

 

The woman took out this towel and drenched it in water from the corner sink. For the first time, Spock could feel the beginnings of hyperventilation.

 

He could hold his breath for a maximum of five minutes and eleven seconds, his minimum being four minutes and forty-nine seconds. As he was mentally preparing for the suffocation, he observed the leader hold the towel and invade Jim’s space.

 

No – they had to come to him.

 

It had to be him!

 

Jim shook his head away, shaking the rope on his wrists. Spock could not predict how long Jim would last, but he knew that it could not be longer than thirty seconds in this claustrophobic space.

 

Without warning, Spock felt his airway shut. Jim’s moans under the towel got louder while Spock struggled to breathe himself. His body was a separate entity that refused to take orders.

 

“The alien can’t breathe either!”

 

Gigi remained right in front of him, and her weapon was being held near her chest. The rope was breaking and the more air he was deprived of, the stronger he pulled. He was operating solely on adrenaline.

 

His head thumped, matching his increasing heartbeat with each hard tug. Jim’s hands stopped moving right before Scarface lifted the towel.

 

He could still feel Jim resonating inside him, however it was alarmingly faint. Spock tore off the rope, took the biggest leap forward and grasped Gigi’s gun while his feet were still stuck on the floor. The angle of his jump was not perfect and therefore illogical to attempt, except it had to be done.

 

Before she could tackle him and before the others could join to regain control of the situation, Spock shot multiple times at the roof. Crystalline lights zigzagged through the cracks and holes the same way they did during the first attack, floating directly to the Camp Salvatus members. As all three of them backed up with begging whines, Spock shot at the rope connecting him to the floor and quickly crawled on top of Jim, letting the ashes permeate them.

 

.

.

.

 

 

Nensi used his nails to tap the circular glass table while the group watched Spock take his Captain to the truck Karim previously brought.

 

“This is most certainly a Round Four to remember. I understand necessary fatalities.” Lui began. “But I must say, I did not expect total annihilation, especially from them.”

 

Archer didn’t either.

 

Cartwright leaned back into his seat with a sigh. “I know that we’re all thinking about Commander Spock and his inability to eliminate life derived from his beliefs. We must remember that he is also a being of logic.”

 

“Camp Salvatus would have continued to be a problem, putting the base in consistent danger.” Archer agreed. “It would have been illogical to let them remain.”

 

“It’s a shame, but this is war.”

 

Archer bit his bottom lip. This was a war created from Kirk and Spock, and he had a feeling he knew which pieces of the SIM rightfully belonged to.

 

Regardless, James Kirk was officially cleared. His health would never hinder a mission.

Ever.

.

.

.

 

Time was ticking. Jim rested by Spock’s side as he struggled to maneuver the very vehicle he has used many times before. He sat there, shirtless because he threw the coat and fur on Jim. The interior was already concealed. With the probability of his death being high at ninety percent, it was a risk he had to take.

 

Correction – ninety-five.

 

Spock shut his eyes and inhaled deeply. His vision blurred significantly.

 

He kept the speed of one hundred and five miles per hour, but he knew the approaching truth. He could not continue the rest of the drive, because he was bleeding out.

 

He only needed to get close enough for the base to reach them, providing easier access for Jim to retrieve medical attention. It was the only thing that mattered.

 

After four more minutes, he halted all functions of the vehicle. It would be irresponsible to let it remain on. For the second time since the invasion, his surroundings became an imaginable clear night sky. The unending honk of the truck from the impact of his head on the steering wheel did little to wake him up.

 

Spock hoped he was close enough for he could not determine their distance in this state.

 

He could not determine if he would …

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~X


	28. SIM - PART TWENTY

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG - I'm going to depart from my SIMs soon.  
> I feel like my story is already over!
> 
> Song: Love Song Requiem by Trading Yesterday  
> Warning: Gory inception...?
> 
> Enjoy! (So glad I can say that again!)  
> ~X

** SIM - PART TWENTY **

 

  
 

Commander Tinibu informed the SIM Med room that time would be manipulated; hence the SIM injuries healed enough for Kirk and Spock to function, or at least tolerate. Data could not be collected if Jim and Spock slept in both worlds for days.

 

It was abnormal for everyone to hear something so synthetic, considering what they just witnessed. If they were not running rapid, making sure the Captain and Commander didn’t reach an overload – then they were sucked into the visuals of the shed.

 

Some things translated into the real world, but obviously not enough for the SIM to stay banned. Leonard went into this thinking that Jim would need more maintenance after what happened and the condition Jim was already in, except the team and him found most their time directed towards Spock.

 

Jim’s pain was apparently reflecting on Spock, doubling it as a result, and he had no idea why.

 

“Am I the only one who noticed that the Commander started to scream every time they hurt the Captain?” Dr. Kim said in the silent room.

 

This was the first mention of it since the end of Round Four.

 

“The Commander’s mind is a unique one.” M’Benga started to explain. “With that, I cannot conclude with certainty as to why this has happened.”

 

Leonard needed more explanation. He needed to understand so that he could do an educated guess as to the consequences.

 

M’Benga continued, placing his PADD to the side and exhaling from the demanding day. “Nevertheless, for some reason Commander Spock’s mind strengthened the connection to levels above his control. Above what he would consciously allow, I’m sure.”

 

“But …” Another team member stuttered to talk. “Isn’t that what a Vulcan would consider ‘bonded’? Lt. Grayensha attempted to do it during Round Three, remember? She failed to do so.”

 

The Vulcan Lieutenant couldn’t bond with her partner Frank simply because Frank wasn’t _real_. It was the first SIM out of many that caused Leonard to lose sleep. She personally came down and threatened them that if her attempts to bond with a human were revealed, she would make it her personal objective to end their careers. Leonard and M’Benga could tell that her anger derived from a shattered heart, despite her emotionless demeanor.

 

“False conclusion doctor.” M’Benga shook his head. Some hums in the room agreed with him. “The Captain is real. The symptoms do have a resemblance to those that are bonded; however Commander Spock would have to initiate it deliberately. These matters cannot be, and never will be spontaneous.”

 

Questions were the norm in the SIM Med room. After all, they could only discuss it amongst each other because mentioning it outside of those doors resulted in immediate removal of license with dishonorable discharge. It’s just that Leonard finally felt its intense invasiveness, because the two men in stasis were his friends.

 

Dr. Kim opened her mouth with a ‘ _ah’_. “What if they go through with it? Would it be successful this time?”

 

Chatter ensued again, and Leonard’s irritation started to grow. He clapped twice, and all faces were instantly directed to him.

 

“I understand that we have been working for months on multiple programs. We have seen people suffer in sinking crew ships, planes, boats, freezing mountains and isolated islands – we have seen them cheat on exams, on people – we have seen them murder without a cause, commit forgery, join gangs, cults and mafias – we have seen evil conjure from men, women and aliens alike that have served with us for years – we have seen disturbing content left and right, with the occasional comedy and love affair.” He sighed.

 

Their work ethic was phenomenal. Honestly, Leonard loved this team. It was the only positive thing to come out of this SIM. He hoped that some of them were compatible enough to transfer, and join his own team on the next mission after this mess.

 

“Your work has been commendable, but I feel that I must remind you all that we are here to work. Our leniency has resulted in us to deviate from our professional decorum.”

 

Leonard only wanted silence for hereon out.

 

“So, please.”

 

. 

.

.

  
 

Lt. Lyn informed Archer and everyone in the room that the SIM would be altered to merge into Round Five.

 

The voting was about to begin … although he wondered if there was even a point to this session.

 

“Those in favor for the PASS of Captain James Kirk in Round Four say –

 

They all interrupted him. “Aye.”

 

Archer shut his mouth and raised his fuzzy white brows. He kept his voice steady, forcing himself to prevent wavering eyes. “Those in favor for the PASS of Commander Spock in – “

 

“Aye!” They said louder, including Komack.

 

…

 

“Round Four is officially complete.”

 

. 

.

.

  
 

Karim yelled down the hallways, chanting to every soul in his path. “Savitra’s makin’ me a cake! She’s making me a fucking cake!”

 

Jim sat across from Spock in the cafeteria, and ate his bread with the same expression as everyone in the room.

 

It was the definition of ‘ _what the fuck?’_

During their recovery, no one sat near them. It was kind of bittersweet. He missed the company, but couldn’t take any more questions about the mission.

 

Spock raised a brow at Karim's profanity while they ate, and Jim found it hilarious that the Chief never looked back to glare at the insane teen. There were children here.

 

On Spock’s right, Jim observed Karim carelessly shove Terrence aside, jumping on a table with arms wide open.

 

“You get a cake, you get a cake - you all get a fucking cake!” Hysterical laughs erupted from the base, especially from those that Karim pointed to like a rich woman giving away hovercrafts. “Flavors people – give me your flavors!” His fingers dramatically moved as if summoning a demon.

 

“Carrot!” A squeaky voice answered, and Jim saw that it belonged to Adriana whom was giggling alongside her dad.

 

Karim’s dramatically looked disgusted at the suggestion. “Oh my god, no!”

 

Jim snorted in his drink. He couldn’t even attempt to look well mannered. This was a shit show that couldn't be ignored. Pain vibrated through his waist and hip - it sucked that funny things sometimes hurt too. The closed wound threatened to open with each chuckle.

He could still feel fingers penetrating his torn skin.

 

Dr. Cardenas warned him to stay away from everyone, since they all thought themselves comedians.

 

“Fudge chocolate chip!”

 

“Of course I would get a basic suggestion from a basic person like you, Flint!” Karim yelled at the unknown voice. “Some originality people!”

 

“Let’s make it vanilla, but with colored swirls inside!”

 

Karim squinted into the crowd and pointed to one of the teenagers near Clayton. “We see the lights every night – just because they like to eat us, don’t mean we need to eat ‘em too! It’s not that kind of symbiotic relationship.”

 

A whine came from Karim after Terrence smacked the kid’s thigh at the joke. It was so wrong to laugh at that.

 

So, so wrong.

 

Nevertheless, Spock took another bite of his food while passing Jim a merciful napkin. He took it; extremely grateful he could use something to wipe his mouth.

 

“Let’s make it a fruit cake then, completely covered in kiwis.” One of Katherine’s students’ shouted out, with palms circled around her mouth.

 

Karim shook his head with his mouth open. “I want a _cake,_ Zuri! Not some manifestation of your green kinks on our food! The Chief’s clearly taken!”

 

Spock always kept his natural good form and posture despite being in recovery himself. Consequently, Jim glorified in the prying eyes because Spock just kept coughing from shock. It was Jim’s turn to pass a napkin to the choking Chief.

 

“What's this cake even for?” Terrence huffed.

 

Jim didn’t care – he just wanted the biggest piece. He sure as hell deserved it.

 

“What is it for!??” Karim mockingly repeated. “It’s for my sweet sixteen, that’s what!”

 

Steven burst out laughing with the rest. “You can’t say ‘ _sweet’_ sixteen!”

 

“I can damn well say whatever the hell I want!” Karim crossed his arms with defiance, breathing large portions of air in, in order to poke out his chest like a gorilla. “ - and I am having the best post-apocalyptic cake for my _sweet_ sixteen!”

 

The debate then ignited in the room, and Jim let the friendly arguments swarm him. He was gratified to know that the base resumed to normal. Only a handful knew what exactly took place with Camp Salvatus. The rest thought the group retreated, promising to never return.

 

“Why would a celebration that defines the ‘coming of age’ be restricted from one sex?”

 

Jim swallowed his food. “It actually applies to girls just as well as boys. It’s just that the males don’t define it as a ‘ _sweet’_ sixteen. The title is often believed to have a feminine undertone.”

 

“Most illogical.”

 

Jim rested his chin on his palms and cheesed a wide smile. Spock looked at his spoon then back to him.

 

It took longer than acceptable to finally realize that the rice filled spoon was going near his mouth. Jim slowly leaned forward and wrapped his lips around it, accepting the unexpected offer. He backed away while chewing, trying to prevent himself from melting.

 

He swallowed, then bit his bottom lip. It wasn’t fair that Spock was always the one to shock him.

 

“Thanks, sweety.”

 

Spock shoulders stiffened, not noticing the crazy teen take a seat beside him, ranting about the best party to ever take place in this base – especially since it was going to be the only party.

 

Karim never spoke of what took place in Camp Salvatus. The teenager’s quick return to usual behavior was for once worthy of worry.

 

Spock took a drink of his water.

 

“Can you believe that we actually have to ask Dr. Cardenas before we can get more junk food? This new system sucks. Lexa just got a restriction – it’s not her fault she likes caramel.”

 

The doctor definitely took advantage of the additional features after Spock and Terrence incorporated everyone in. There were names now attached to heat signatures and diet logs.

 

No one could just disappear again.

 

Karim moped as he nudged Spock’s elbow. “So, what’d you think Chief?”

 

Spock raised a brow again. “I think that this is oddly domestic.”

 

Jim could only cover his face to hide a smile that would most likely become permanent.

**  
**

. 

.

.

 

 The red lights engulfed the base and everyone waved to the other, saying that they would see them next time. The doors started to close with a hiss.

 

Spock made his way down the hall, his usual stride slightly altered. Spock’s limp could have been worse, however everyone noticed it within seconds after they first got released.

 

Spock’s thigh was healing faster than Jim’s waist and Dr. Cardenas expected it too. Jim listened to Spock explain that his recovery was apparently slower by twenty-two percent when comparing it to his last injury, which was right after the third attack.

 

Some random people wanted to put Spock on a stick and light it up. Or was it a tree ...? Jim put the little fat on his cheeks between his teeth, attempting to seem calm when in actuality, just imagining the scenario made him see red. He had to acknowledge his current situation, and stop thinking about what happened and what could have been.

 

Now, he was in the base and walking to his room. Feeling a quick tug, he realized that Spock held the fabric of his shirt, forcing Jim forward. The door hissed behind them.

 

He stood there, and watched Spock get entranced in the moment. The Chief occasionally asked for these because Jim wasn’t the only one having trouble accepting their reality.

 

He placed his palms under Spock’s coat and trailed down to Spock’s waist, bringing them closer. Spock reciprocated by rolling up the bottom of Jim’s shirt, resting his palm above the new bandage.

 

“You are here.” Spock whispered, affirming more for himself than Jim.

 

A small chuckle came from him. “I thought I said I’d never leave you. Don’t tell me you doubted me?”

 

Spock flicked his gaze up, and Jim wondered how that stare could still have such an effect on him. He knew Spock heard his gulp and speeding heart rate – shit, he probably sensed the high blood pressure too.

 

“Separation is an impossible concept to consider.”

 

They were his words, but somehow they sounded softer, more genuine and more determined from Spock. Living during the end of this world exceeded his expectations. This feeling he knew to be love ... it shouldn't have existed. Not here. Not in a time like this. Not when there was so much anarchy, havoc and instability.

 

He was so hopelessly alone last time.

 

“…purple flowers.”

 

Jim inched back from Spock with wide eyes.

 

All the bad memories translated into white noise, and Spock helped him to get rid of the majority of it, but his happy memories, especially this one, ironically had the ability to open so much.

The memory penetrated the surface, making it incredibly easy for Spock to see without deliberately digging. Jim should have chosen a different memory, and it sucked because even if he chose another one, the empty field was still the best.

 

“Jim …” Spock stepped forward with his hand out. “I apologize.”

 

Jim shook his head, not wanting Spock to blame himself. “It’s my fault.” He weakly smiled. He took one big stride forward to compensate for his stupid move, held Spock’s forearm and led them to the bed.

 

“Let’s check that leg okay.” He declared while placing Spock in the middle of the bed.

 

Spock shifted to have his back to the headboard as he started to unbutton his pants. He put his fingers under the hem and dragged them down.

 

When they reached past Spock’s mid-thigh, Jim helped him take the rest carefully down, trying to not move the gauze, hence irritating the scarred skin.

 

The first time they did this, Jim realized his disappointment when he found out Spock’s boxers were black like the rest of his clothes. He was hoping for some little chicks or jumping bunnies or none at all. He ended up laughing too much to properly explain to Spock.

 

Jim reached over Spock’s body and retrieved the antibiotic ointment. The new rolls of gauze were neatly there just waiting for them. He got comfortable between Spock’s legs and placed them on the bed.

 

Spock tried to help Jim take them off, but once again he refused for the Chief to move an inch. The rips of the material made Spock throw his head back with a hiss. This was always the toughest part.

 

“Don’t be such a baby.”

 

“You demanded to be under anesthesia when I first removed your bandages, Jim.” Spock defended himself.

 

He snorted. “I don’t recall.”

 

“Then I will request Terrence to re-check Dr. Cardenas’ tricorder. There could be more damage than initially– “

 

Another hiss came from Spock as Jim’s ointment covered fingers slowly grazed Spock’s healing cuts.

 

Jim raised a brow, knowing full well what he was doing. “You were saying?”

 

He heard Spock gulp in response. “You are deliberately prolonging the application, Jim.”

 

“Maybe I‘m just too brain damaged to notice, Spock.” He dragged his fingers to the scar-less skin on Spock’s thigh so Spock could feel something besides pain, taking full advantage of the moment. This was the most touching they’ve ever done.

 

Spock inched back, his neck and cheeks turning into a pine green. “I retract my statement. You are fully aware of what you are doing.”

 

Jim tsked and took his hands off Spock’s heated skin. “You don’t play fair.” He complained as he started to measure the gauze for wrapping. It was a shame that they were too injured to do anything. He would have climbed Spock with fresh bullet wounds if he could.

 

As he began the process of wrapping Spock’s thigh, he saw Spock’s jaw go slack.

 

Jim was far past being ashamed anymore. “You need to stop going into my dirty thoughts, Spock. I might traumatize you.”

 

Spock shut his mouth, slowly nodding but still looking away.

 

“How come I can’t feel you like you feel me?” Jim confessed the burning question taunting him for days.

 

“Jim …”

 

“You only let me in once.” He immediately interjected, not giving Spock a chance to come up with some evasive answer. “Whatever happened between us, it affects you more than me. I know because I heard you _scream_ , Spock.”

 

He never mentioned it when they were in biobeds trying to stay alive. He never mentioned it when Dr. Cardenas first released them.

 

“Is this how these things work, Spock?”

 

“Here is what I do know for certain.” Spock shifted in his seat. “When you touch me, I expect for some of your thoughts to surface, which they do. _Vividly_.”

 

He snorted again. “And you would have to actually show me since I can’t do it myself.” Because of this, he always felt that something was amiss.

 

Unfortunately, Spock confirmed it. “Correct.”

 

“But I know you felt what they did to me and we were separated…”

 

“I expected for some form of empathetic transference, which can alter considering my strength or lack of it.”

 

Jim shook his head, needing more elaboration to this foreign concept. “I know that this wasn’t some measly empathetic transference.”

 

Spock cringed. “The clarity of it was unforeseen.”

 

“You were shocked out of your wits.” He concluded.

 

He was grateful for what he had with Spock, but the incomplete circle was something that cried to be filled out. The spaces in it were unnecessary. Jim could sense the bridge, nevertheless even though the other side could be seen, he couldn’t walk to it.

 

Spock couldn’t walk to his, but he could sure get damn well closer.

 

He completed wrapping Spock’s thigh, and leaned forward to attempt to take off Spock’s coat by his shoulders.

 

Once he folded it, he placed it on the side of the bed.

 

The itching question still remained.

 

“Spock …”

 

He craved to make this a two way street with full access. He didn't know how it was done, but he wanted it nonetheless.

 

Spock raked his black strands away from his face and sighed. “Do you wish to resume with meditation?”

 

The question died in Jim’s throat. He cowered away from it and agreed.

 

Spock asked the computer if everyone was inside the base before they began.

 

After, they sat closer together, their palms floating above the other. They ended the night with thoughts of purple flowers, the white noise fizzling away from them.

 

As he danced in the field, he realized his hypocrisy. Who was he to ask for this circle to be complete if he couldn’t find it in him to un-blur aspects of this memory?

 

Spock sat in the field, gazing at the blobs with confusion.

 

Jim was in his small body, however he could describe the experience as something similar to a dream. He was fully aware of his actions, except he wasn’t the one on pilot. His old self was.

 

He ran to Spock, his weak ankles hurting from the action and not caring in the least. He crashed next to the officer and giggled, his back on the field.

 

He was so happy. He pointed to the sky, ecstatic that he would soon be up there. Soon, he would fly.

 

He was saved.

 

If only they could be saved here …

 

. 

.

.

 

Spock was lying in the field, still stunned that Jim desired for something as strong as a bond. Of course Jim did not understand what he was requesting, thus not understanding the conditions included with it.

 

However, he doubted that he could distract himself from the thought now that he heard it from Jim himself. It would forever give him this itch – this craving to complete it.

 

He felt something nudge his side.

_“Officer, when do we leave?”_ This Jim clearly needed medical attention, and yet the kid could only smile and laugh.

 

They both gazed at the sky, and Spock instantly noticed that it looked _wrong_. He was indeed correct in his assumptions. This Jim enjoyed the sky as the symbol for what it was. It was freedom. Because wherever this was, it was not Jim’s home, and Jim detested the notion of remaining here any longer.

 

Spock rolled to the side, and instinctively moved dull blond locks from the dirt-covered face. _“Whenever you wish.”_

 

This was a memory that showed a freedom that might never arrive in reality …

 

The kid continued to laugh, and laugh until the laughing hitched. The breaths were slowing down, causing Spock to abruptly sit up with worry.

 

He glanced down and realized that Jim was crying. The reaction was a confusing one, because Spock only felt waves of unending happiness in a cocoon of Earth shattering relief. Without thought, Spock embraced him and reveled in the feeling.

 

This kind of relief could only emerge when one was faced with the possibility of death – and scanning the limited area he was in – it made him wonder what this fragile person could fear so immensely. There was nothing but silver blurs around them and sand.

 

Regardless, Jim did not see him as Spock the Chief.

 

He was in his uniform as a symbol – a symbol of safety.

 

In Jim’s eyes, he was Starfleet.

. 

.

.

 

Spock only saw darkness. He would have said he saw nothing, except the darkness was a strong presence that was impossible to ignore. The light sucking entity had earned the right to be described as more than ‘nothing’ if not ‘everything’.

 

It was pulling him.

 

It was pulling him all the way up, rough fingers grating at his cheeks, patting at him and scratching.

 

_“Officer!”_

The voice was so familiar, and yet it was new – either way, it was seething with fear.

 

_“They’re coming!”_

He sharply inhaled and abruptly sat up. The sand was swirling together, flying up and merging in a fervent tornado coated with ripped purple petals.

 

The younger Jim pulled at his arm, begging him to start retreating. Spock gazed up and saw the sky on fire. It exploded with amaranth reds, lasers of fuchsia shooting through with the intent to kill.

 

He froze at the sight of the lights.

 

Snapping out of his stupor, he clung to Jim and ran, using every muscle with maximum capacity.

 

The floor shook with more intensity, the quake underneath his feet forcing Spock to stop in his steps. Two enlarged sticks emerged from the floor, shaking as it sprung to the surface, revealing bones attached to it.

 

The remains held hands, the skulls gazing at Spock with brittle, burnt antennas along the craniums. The Andorians looked at him, begging for help through telepathy. Instead of screams, they were of low songs craving for Spock’s attention, for his aid.

 

His eardrums wanted to burst from the singing.

 

 _“Keep going!”_ Jim’s screech alongside it was deafening.

 

He could not keep going. The sight in front of him was unbearable. He was incapable of watching another be _judged_.

 

He was –

 

Jim slapped his back repeatedly. When Spock gave in and glanced at Jim, he saw the kid staring at something else entirely. Jim was not screaming at the corpses, but at a group of masked, uniformed men running in their direction with guns.

 

Although there were pieces of his memories present, the overall canvas did not belong to him. The blurs remained. There was literally nowhere to go.

 

There was –

 

_“Over there!”_

 

Jim moved the hair out of his face and pointed to one of the blurred blobs in the background. He still could not discern the details, but he took off in that direction, trusting the kid in his arms completely.

 

The closer he got, the more the details made sense to him.

 

Spock started to climb at the metal ladder leading to a high door connected to this form. The higher he got, the closer the lights came to him. He threw Jim in first then proceeded to move inside, shutting the door behind him. He was sitting on cold white metal.

 

_“Cool!”_

He made sure to not waste any time. Nothing was perfectly sealed. He held Jim’s forearm and sprinted down the cold hallway. Sensing familiarity within the temperature drop and hearing the hum behind the walls – he realized that he was in a ship.

 

When he reached the bridge, he then also realized that this was not just any ship.

 

_“Officer, where is your crew? Where is everyone? Not only are you late, but you come with no one to man the ship? What kind of rescue mission is this?”_

 

Spock had his mouth open, and yet no words could come out. His location should have been impossible, unless this was a part of his conscious seeping inside Jim's just like the Andorians.

 

Nonetheless, if all the blurred aspects of the memory consisted of ships, then it brought to question as to why Jim was surrounded by starships on an unknown planet.

 

Why was he on the Enterprise?

 

For the first time, Spock questioned the kid. _“What is our location?”_

 

Jim squinted his eyes. _“Clearly we’re on a ship.”_

 

 _“Planet!”_ Spock interjected, moving closer to Jim, leaning on one knee to rest his hands on Jim’s pointy clavicles. _“Where are we?”_

 

Jim widened his eyes and slowly shook his head. Spock watched him place his index finger on his lips with a low whistle.

 

Slow claps erupted behind him, causing Spock to turn back so fast, he was surprised he did not snap his neck.

 

A man he did not recognize stood there with a grin that could hold the weight of every mischievous secret in the Sol system. The older man in silk ruby robes pointed to him with his wrinkled finger. “ _By rule of council and for the survival of our people and this cursed colony, you are hereby sentenced to death.”_

 

Jim’s breaths were quickening, pure terror across his face. Spock stepped between them, snarling of that of a predator.

 

A low laugh he recognized with every fiber came from his right. It was the laugh that replayed while his thigh was being cut. The leader of Camp Salvatus tilted his head. _“We burn because of you.”_ He announced.

 

 _“We are hungry because of you.” T_ he unknown man deeply interjected.

 

Spock felt Jim’s nails cling to his back.

 

The leader yelled. _“Your own planet won’t even save you. Instead, you stay here and we burn because of it – you blasphemous creature.”_

_“Starfleet will not save you.”_ The old man stated, not noticing the leader next to him. “ _They have abandoned us all.”_

 

_“Starfleet deserves to burn. There is a cleansing upon us!”_

 

The weight of the piercing words, the hums of the deceased Andorians and Jim’s cries brought Spock to his knees. For a mind that had been naked for so long, this was too much.

 

The man Jim most feared whisked his robe and cocked his head. _“We must make do.”_

 

_“You are not worthy!”_

_“You’re not worthy!”_

. 

.

.

 

Both their distressing fragmented screams transcended to reality. They were on each side of the bed, lying on the floor and heavily panting.

None could gather the courage to speak or to return to the bed. For the first time, the separation was a blessing. Spock needed to cope with the fact that the very memory Jim entrusted him with was ruined.

And it was his fault.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm adoring all the support.  
> You guys are so fantastic. I want to keep you all in my living room, so you can chant your love whilst writing new chapters. 
> 
> :P
> 
> ~X


	29. SIM - TWENTY ONE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two more SIMs left.  
> I'm going to crawl in a hole now. 
> 
> Warning: An overkill of ellipses.  
> Song: One Life by Hedley (beautiful irony)  
> Enjoy the fluff with a side of WTF.
> 
> ~X

** SIM- PART TWENTY ONE **

 

 

“I don’t know if I’m right, but I’m feeling a shit load of unnecessary regret, Spock.”

 

After one hour and forty-six minutes, Jim crawled on the bed and requested that Spock return on the bed. Against those wishes, Spock remained on the floor, his knees to his chest. The dancing vocals of the Andorians transformed into sharp fingers floating in the air, wanting to tear his skin inch by inch.

 

They wanted his bones bare … just like them.

 

Jim’s voice was still hoarse from the scream. “I was having a nightmare Spock – if there’s anyone to blame, it’s me.”

 

Correction – Spock was having the nightmare and they bled with Jim’s memory without warning. Spock has seen too many burn – he was the one that was pulled from both ends of his identity.

 

The enemy of silence and rejection taunted him.

 

Spock breathed in. Honestly, the silence might as well have been rejection.

 

The dream reeked of appalling thoughts. The leader was not speaking of his beliefs – he was just the parrot uttering the words Spock said to himself too many times.

 

“Why are you claiming the fault in this when it undoubtedly belongs with me?”

 

Jim dramatically inched back and crashed on the bed with a load groan. Spock could no longer see him, only hearing the sharp breaths above.

“What makes you think that the burnt Andorians didn’t belong in my dream? What’s to say that the lights weren’t mine too? We both saw countless set on fire, and the lights are literally outside right now. We fear the same things Spock, so they could have just as well been mine's.” Jim declared. “The other added shit was from me too, so please don’t blame yourself.”

 

“You trusted me with this memory … “

 

“It was a bad decision on my part!”

 

Spock heard some shuffles beside him and suddenly, Jim was on his knees in front of him, placing his palms on Spock’s knees.

 

“I shouldn’t have chosen a memory that was connected to so much shit.”

 

Spock blinked in the dark room. He could see Jim’s silhouette and shadowed features, however with every three or four blinks, he saw an unidentified man in a mask and grey uniform. Another couple of blinks and Spock could swear that he felt silk slither across his body.

 

Silk dipped in blood.

 

“You may not speak of it, Jim – but I see how such a memory could be your ideal.” Spock swallowed. “It was the last memory of the worst.” He concluded.

 

Fingers stroked through his hair; a cluster of affection caressing his katra, and Spock found himself leaning into it. Jim had better capabilities than any healer on Vulcan. The singing was silenced.

 

“Because of my inability to talk about it yet is not a reflection on you.” Jim leaned in closer, their foreheads touching. “It’s not ruined – it’s the same and it’s safe. Nightmares are not our fault. They happen. That’s our reality.”

 

Despite the fact that this reality needed much improvement, Spock knew that he could bear with it because Jim was by his side.

 

. 

.

.

 

The sensation of sitting on the biobed, only in his boxers while listening to Dr. Cardenas talk about his injuries and his carelessness always sparked a flicker of recognition. Her blunt and bright behavior would have been the exact kind he would steer him away from, except he always found himself _comfortable_. He never served with her, but maybe it was because she was a fellow officer. Nevertheless, it was too quick an emotion.

 

This identical sensation came with the rest of the base’s first members. Karim’s tendency to always be distracted and abnormally loud barely bothered him – unlike Anastasia’s knowing looks, understanding his expressions with such accuracy, Spock wondered how she could deduce his emotions.

 

Markus’ love for alcohol and weapons would result with Spock only shaking his head and walking away without a care, when it should have deeply concerned him. Especially when considering how many weapon-worshiping murderers he had the unfortunate chance of meeting.

 

Savitra was extremely interested in his culture while sometimes simultaneously blatantly ignoring cultural-based formality - her queries full of details concerning his personal life.

 

Steven and Katherine had characteristics so similar to each other, they were the same person under different skin.

 

Clayton arrived later and even though they appeared to be tough and bold, Spock could see right through it for the adoration it was.

 

Terrence was ... well Terrence the first trustworthy person after the invasion.

 

The automatic wave of awareness Spock had with each of them was a branch from the same tree that Jim belonged in.

 

The notion and even the language he thought of it in was miles from logical. A mere week after bringing Jim to the base, he confided in Savitra about these feelings of recognition. She was about to begin her explanation of _‘past-lives’_ that were taught to her as a child except, she halted her speech, remembering that she left the boiling water unattended. The conversation never resurfaced.

 

Peculiar was the perfect word.

 

Everything had to be some puzzle that required immediate attention. As Markus would say, the ocean rumbled under the storm and they were without life jackets.

 

‘At least we have medicine’ Dr. Cardenas would preach.

 

She frowned when she gave Spock the last of his obligatory bi-annual Terran hyposhots, and he found it almost troubling. “I understand that Markus was trying to get you here as quickly as possible, but he should have been more mindful of your leg. It looks like he just threw you in the truck.” She stated, putting down her equipment to look at his healing thigh for the fourth time.

 

Spock had no recollection of his rescue, but it was likely that Markus indeed threw him in the truck alongside Jim. He knew he was heavy and Markus was alone – Karim being too weak to carry anyone. It was of little importance anyways. Both him and Jim were breathing.

 

“You’re lucky those people didn’t do anything fatal."

 

“They required information. Keeping us alive was vital.”

 

“Still…” She tsked.

 

Spock followed her palm and moved his leg so she could inspect the torn tissue. “I believe that I can resume my responsibilities – “

 

“You’re still not cleared to do anything like your stupid scouts with council. You couldn’t even if you wanted to, because Ana just got off bed rest and Markus is staying with her. Jim can barely laugh, Chief.”

 

“I am well aware. I was pertaining to the shifts.” Spock suggested. “I wish to return to them.”

 

She sighed, her shoulders dropping down. “Just shifts. You better not do anything more than cleaning tables. Feel free to relay that to that lightrunner of yours too.”

 

Spock nodded, grateful that he could be of some use to his base again. It was odd – he never officially stated that he and Jim pursued a romantic relationship and yet – it was common knowledge.

_Rumors…_

He should have rectified it, except he discovered the absurdity in such an endeavor. The world ended – the people respected him and there was no judgment to be found here. After the thought, he then realized that all of the above were of little concern. He was proud to have Jim by his side.

All illogical – All permanent aspects of his life and lately – logic did not halt him from his actions and his words – he behaved as the Vulcan he found himself to be. By following logic, he should have abandoned all humans, especially after what the majority of them have heinously committed.

 

“Speaking of usual activities …” Dr. Cardenas halted in her words, stepping back with a clenched jaw.

 

“Is there something you wish to discuss?” He urged.

 

Dr. Cardenas half-way rolled her eyes before she sat down on a stool and put one leg over the other. She tilted her head, her professional demeanor retreating into the burning sky.

 

“Never in my life did I think I would have to give you ‘ _the lecture’.”_ She said - her fingers motioning with what Spock could assume were quotations.

 

“And what might this lecture entail?”

 

“Have you ever heard of …” She cleared her throat, shifting in her seat. “Well… on Earth we call them the _birds and bees.”_

 

Before she had the opportunity to raise her fingers again for another set of quotations, Spock spoke.

 

“We are both adults.”

 

Dr. Cardenas raised a skeptical brow, so he quickly corrected himself.

 

“We are both adults in human years.” He said. “Evidently, you are uncomfortable - regardless you should cease treading past the topic as if I am some child.”

 

A low laugh came from her.

 

“Frankly, I’m a little disappointed with you Chief.” She crossed her arms. “You have yet to come to me when you’ve been sleeping in the same room as Jim for a little over a week if base chatter is accurate – “

 

“Your point – “ He interjected.

 

She sighed once more, standing up from her seat and retreating to the back of the room. Spock gulped while waiting for her return, wondering where she could possibly be going with this.

 

Dr. Cardenas returned with a plastic aid kit. Spock raised a brow when she placed it on his lap.

 

“I told council that they could not resume sexual activity for at least another week.” She declared.

 

Spock’s throat went dry and it took everything in him to not show his shock. Vivid images that Jim conjured in his mind resurfaced.

 

“With you – I’ll say a week as well, considering your accelerated healing and Jim’s current progress.”

 

He was not ashamed, except there was something preventing him from admitting the lack of sexual contact, if any. Circumstances never allowed them to indulge … and he was just now seeing the abnormality in it.

 

Jim most certainly desired for more, however Jim was the one who needed to refrain in the beginning – not Spock. Now, it was both of them.

 

Did Jim even care?

 

He almost rolled his eyes at the thought. Jim definitely did not care. This was the same man who ran from the lights for sugar filled beverages.

 

Spock looked at the case as if it was burning his naked thighs. Actually, he never felt naked in Dr. Cardenas’ presence, which was a foreign experience. She had seen him in the nude twice already.

 

His fingers inched closer to the opening.

 

“Not here. Open it when you get back to your room. Consider it a gift for being a good Vulcan gentleman when you had all these people gunning for you since day one.” She smiled.

 

Spock merely nodded. The contents within the case had a high probability of darkening the pigment of his revealed skin.

 

Suddenly, the updated terminal in the medical room started to ring. An alarm had been set.

Dr. Cardenas jogged to it, and revealed the notification flashing on her screen. “You have got to be kidding me!”

 

. 

.

.

Jim almost choked at the sight ahead of him.

 

The decision ultimately came down to using the lemons in the garden thus creating a lemon and vanilla flavored cake, sprinkled with packaged coconut shavings. All worshiped the great Savitra.

 

That should have been the best part of the day, except Jim and Spock quickly shifted their heads right and left simultaneously while they stood in the back of the cafeteria.

 

Left – right – left – up – down.

 

Steven did an override to Dr. Cardenas’ restrictions and everyone went insane on the replicators, resulting in a shit load of synthetic sugar filled treats. He knew something was wrong when Lexa walked passed him with a mouth full of caramel. Karim held a rainbow swirl lollipop worthy of ten tongues and watched the sight in front of him with the biggest grin possible.

 

Normally when Steven would run around chasing Karim, the doctor always reprimanded them for being so reckless. Now she was the one gunning for the older engineer, running around the tables to physically grab him. She screamed, wondering how the insolent man ever served on a ship to begin with.

 

Dr. Cardenas shoved her lab coat to Lexa’s chest and breathed in deep. “Steven!” The shorter woman was indeed threatening.

 

“Breaking news! Sugar for all of Warehouse 15!” Steven yelled out while standing on one of the tables, grabbing the attention of many.

 

The crowd roared with approval.

 

Jim could easily guess that Dr. Cardenas only saw red. “These replicators will kill us all before the lights do! There was a reason why they were accessible in the mess hall with restrictions and records!”

 

“This is a base filled with survivors. This ain’t no flagship! - And you’re not invited to Karim’s _sweet_ sixteen before lockdown!”

 

“Why I outta – “

 

The chasing resumed. When Steven ran past Anastasia, the healing council member caught the engineer’s sleeve without moving an inch from her seat. Steven complained and begged for her to let him go. It was all in vain for she only looked away with a tired sigh, her grip forever one of an Amazon.

It was a perfect day.

. 

.

.

 

Terrence was the DJ for the night. He took the job with honor, working endlessly to download all the classics into the new system. The playlist was complete and in full swing.

 

The best part was when Spock would question the lyrics and ask which lines were metaphorical or literal. Jim eventually gave in to his twisted sense of humor and told Spock that the rain was indeed purple, and that the singer wanted to drown his lover in it.

 

Spock caught onto the joke and looked away as he drank his water, mumbling how it was impossible for the rain to be purple.

 

The atmosphere soon shifted into something completely unexpected. Jim now understood Dr. Cardenas’ worry about the birth control – large portions of the base were grinding on each other. A circle formed with Clayton and Savitra in the middle and two other teenage couples moving together so sexually, Steven covered Adriana’s eyes while Kumar gagged on empty air, which then made Kara laugh at his despair.

 

Thankfully, the music dimmed down and Katherine stood on the table, clapping for attention.

 

“Hello, everyone!”

 

They yelled so loud in their response - the teacher flinched back. “Well then – hot dang!”

 

Guffaws broke out. Jim held his cup of orange juice, laughing with his head resting on Spock’s shoulder. Karim sat at the table, looking up at Katherine, carefully wondering what she would say.

 

“We are here to celebrate one stupid, reckless, insane, now sixteen year old. Congratulations, you’re almost there with us boring adults.”

 

Karim hid his face under his hair and palms when they continued to laugh.

 

Katherine looked down with a mischievous grin. “You have been such a pain in the butt, but for some reason we still love you.”

 

Spock turned to him. “Is this supposed to be endearing?”

 

Jim nodded with a chuckle. It sure was.

 

“Karim only wanted one gift from us, and I am delighted to finally show it. Savitra and I worked our butts to make it.”

 

Karim took his cue and stood on the table next to Katherine with the widest smile. Jim saw them both look down on him and Spock.

 

Whatever this gift was, he was confused as to why they were staring at them with this cunning –

 

Some people suddenly moved away, leaving room for Lexa to walk through with a medium, silver rose covered, zaffre and white cake.

 

It was _three_ tiers.

 

Jim hid his face behind Spock’s shoulders. He took back everything.

 

This was the worst day ever. He wanted to recoil into nothing – not even the ashes under the lights.

 

Atoms.

 

He wanted to be atoms.

 

“As I recall …” Katherine announced, flashing her teeth next to Karim whom burst out laughing, his tanned skin turning into a peach from the excessive blushing. “When Jim first arrived, before he even knew our names, he declared that he would marry our Chief.”

 

_Atoms!_

 

Applause ensued as the cake was placed on a table in the center. The gesture was of a humorous nature; nevertheless there was genuine love within it. Mockery wasn’t the question – it was the shock of how Spock could handle this so smoothly, because Jim knew he couldn’t. Who thought about weddings and cake during an apocalypse?!!

 

_Karim…_

 

The temptation called to Jim. He took a peak at the beautiful cake before covering his face again. He needed to be drunk for this. He hasn’t had alcohol since his body abandoned him – how could he since he kept popping pills all the time?

 

He knew his tolerance was shit – so all he needed was one shot. Just one scorching shot of engine water.

 

“Jim, is that a…”

 

He held onto his cup of orange juice and continued to hide.

 

“I swear I had no idea.” He immediately blurted out, his voice breaking.

 

Karim cleared his throat. “My birthday gift is for these two to take the first bite of this extra cake I had to beg _G_ shift for. There aren’t any replicated eggs in it, I assure you.”

 

Jim couldn’t gather the courage to look at them as the base chanted for them to eat the cake.

 

“Don’t be a spoilsport, Jim!”

 

“C’mon, Chief!”

 

Jim suddenly had his feet on the floor, standing, and walking to the cake. For a second, he was unaware of how he was doing it. He blinked a few times and noticed that Spock was holding his wrist, leading them to the center table.

 

“Spock?”

 

The Chief approached the cake, let go of Jim and turned around to face him. The green hue returned to Spock’s face. Jim was thankful to not be the only one flustered. What were they doing?

 

Granted, this wasn’t official but still…

 

What the _hell_ were they doing?

 

Katherine jumped down the table, and she skipped to them with a knife and two forks in hand. She cheekily gave Spock the knife first, holding the forks.

 

“You know how this goes.” She whispered to him before backing away.

 

Jim breathed in deep and placed his hands on Spock’s wrists, lightly caressing the knuckles. He was shoulder to shoulder with Spock, and he nibbled on his lower lip.

 

“I have never attended a human wedding ceremony, however I do understand that we are to cut this together.” Spock calmly said, looking to Jim for some kind of affirmation.

 

“Yes.” He whispered, not trusting his voice to speak any louder.

 

“Then, do we proceed?”

 

 _No_.

 

“Yes.”

 

They both leaned forward and cut the bottom layer of the cake, piercing a rose in half, revealing a pure fluffy white.

 

The floor vibrated from the cheers, and Jim felt a chill slither down his spine. Karim’s whistles were the loudest.

 

Katherine passed them the forks. Spock looked at it like a foreign object while placing his fork into a piece. Jim did the same.

 

Spock glanced around, then back at his fork, one eyebrow high.

 

Jim could tell Spock was confused. He took the initiative to take the piece of cake off his own fork and float it near Spock’s mouth. He couldn’t stop grinning when Spock reflected it perfectly. He awkwardly leaned forward and soon, both of them wrapped their lips around the light vanilla fluff whilst staring at each other. The intimacy of it was not lost on him.

 

“I now pronounce you, Mr. and Mr. Lightrunner!” Karim dramatically declared with his hands high. The birthday boy was delighted beyond measure.

 

The corner of Jim’s mouth quirked up as he turned around to face the crazy people in this base. Anastasia and Markus clapped, smiling at them with an earnest expression.

 

Side by side with Spock, they did a quick bow. After, Spock could only stare at his cream coated fingers; his face so green – Jim started to worry. Instantly, his held Spock’s face between his palms and delivered one big peck on the lips, sparking more yells around them.

 

For two men in rugged dark attire, bruised up and limping, this must have been one unique image, and throughout it all, he was consciously aware that he aspired to do this for real one day.

 

… Hopefully in white next time, or however the hell Vulcans did it.

. 

.

.

 

“What do you think they’ll do during Round Five?”

 

Leonard heard the question and sighed in his seat, ignoring the screaming alarms. M’Benga glanced at him before looking away, rubbing his temples.

 

“They’ll fight of course.” Dr. Lee was certain in his answer.

 

“I don’t think so.” Another voice suggested. “Only two percent of those passed, fought ‘till the end and won.”

 

Dr. Lee shook his head. “Every SIM doesn’t include a winning option. Even if this one has it, it doesn’t guarantee a FAIL. They’ve made it ‘till the end after all.”

 

Leonard bit his cheek.

 

If there were anyone to find a way to win, it would be Jim. Unless the option was never presented …

 

“The other ninety-three percent of those passed … died.”

 

Round Five was a round many barely even got to. The command team of Xīwàng both died with a PASS.

 

“Regardless, I highly doubt they’ll fall into the remaining five percentile.” Dr. Kim expressed.

 

If they fell into the five percent, Leonard would walk out of the room. He could see things – fuck, he has seen many things - he just wouldn’t be able to see … _that_.

 

“Dr. Kim.” Leonard blurted out. “Log in the latest charts so that we can finalize our Round Four reports.”

 

“Aye!"

 

Thirty minutes later - the screens went black again.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this chapter before Prince's death, so it felt incredibly weird reading it while editing. [Purple Rain by Prince]  
> Anyways - much love.  
> RIP to an inspiring, beautiful soul.  
> Stay Purple,  
> ~X


	30. POST SIM - PART FIVE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> POST - SIM fuckery!
> 
> Warning: Mentions of suicide...  
> Song: My Kingdom by Evangeline (William Black Remix)
> 
> ~X

** POST SIM - PART FIVE**

 

>  
> 
>  
> 
> _Interviewer #2 : _Do you need some water?
> 
>  
> 
> _Captain Kirk:   _I need _air_.
> 
>  
> 
> _Interviewer #2 : ..._
> 
>  
> 
> _Captain Kirk:   _Get this over with please.
> 
>  
> 
> _Interviewer #2 :_ Uh … okay. Please describe your reasoning for planning with Markus behind the Commanders’ back?
> 
>  
> 
> _Captain Kirk:   _Regarding the windows?
> 
>  
> 
> _Interviewer #2 : _Yes.
> 
>  
> 
> _Captain Kirk:   _Why are we back to that blasted mission?
> 
>  
> 
> _Interviewer #2 : _Your perspective has to be logged in.
> 
>  
> 
> _Captain Kirk:   _Fine. It’s just … it had to be done. People like that don’t find serenity and skip off in a meadow somewhere. They always come back. They kill everyone and everything.
> 
>  
> 
> _Interviewer #2 : _Then why didn’t you just explain your logic then, instead of the secrecy?
> 
>  
> 
> _Captain Kirk:   _The Commander would have come to the same conclusion; I just didn’t believe it would have been fast enough.
> 
>  
> 
> _Interviewer #2 : _Oh, I see –
> 
>  
> 
> _Captain Kirk:   _Wait, can you scratch that?
> 
>  
> 
> _Interviewer #2 : _I can’t, Captain.
> 
>  
> 
> _Captain Kirk:   _…
> 
>  
> 
> _Interviewer #2 : _Your theory concerning the lights proved correct. I must say - that was extremely impressive.
> 
>  
> 
> _Captain Kirk:   _Don’t remind me.
> 
>  
> 
> _Interviewer #2 : _Also, about your SIM health -
> 
>  
> 
> _Captain Kirk:   _Don’t remind me of that either.
> 
>  
> 
> _Interviewer #2 : _Captain –
> 
>  
> 
> _Captain Kirk:   _Just ... just continue -
> 
>  
> 
> _Interviewer #2 : _After experiencing your heightened symptoms in the SIM, do you think you can lead a ship if it came to that in the middle of the five-year mission?
> 
>  
> 
> _Captain Kirk:   _I did fine in the SIM didn’t I? I would randomly crash on the floor, but hey – I got up and kicked ass.
> 
>  
> 
> _Interviewer #2 : _Still.
> 
>  
> 
> _Captain Kirk:   _Listen, if it ever came down to it, the crew comes before my ego. I would resign so they don’t suffer from a stupid mistake that could have been prevented. Every officer deserves an operating Captain if not a great one.
> 
>  
> 
> _Interviewer #2 : _Noted. Umm … you showed impeccable survivalist skills, especially when the lights were first spotted. You prepared an ideal shelter in your home. Despite all of this, you became more risky with your behavior around the end of Round One. That part we found slightly confusing. A pattern started to surface, Captain.
> 
>  
> 
> _Captain Kirk:   _And?
> 
>  
> 
> _Interviewer #2 : _Repairing the generator is understandable. The rescue mission could be understandable however, the decline started when you fled Camp Salvatus without a proper plan.
> 
>  
> 
> _Captain Kirk:   _I could not stay there another minute.
> 
>  
> 
> _Interviewer #2 : _You increased light activity by retrieving a mannequin for your first home with which you then named _Bud_.
> 
>  
> 
> _Captain Kirk:   _Social interactions are vital for healthy cognitive functions.
> 
>  
> 
> _Interviewer #2 : _You could have waited until sunrise.
> 
>  
> 
> _Captain Kirk:   _Talking to the wall became unbearable.
> 
>  
> 
> _Interviewer #2 : _And then, after you moved again, you had seizures, took your self-prescribed medications, but never endeavored to obtain healthier food even though we made them easily accessible near the apartment you made your second home. Instead, you used bean jars to roll out your new memory foam mattress with an overabundance of candy and chocolate.
> 
>  
> 
> _Captain Kirk:   _The world ended. Some sugar wouldn’t have hurt.
> 
>  
> 
> _Interviewer #2 : _The night Warehouse 15 discovered you presence, you were outside again for _energy drinks._
> 
>  
> 
> _Captain Kirk:   _The lights were dormant at the time. Sorta…
> 
>  
> 
> _Interviewer #2 : _My question is, Captain –
> 
>  
> 
> _Captain Kirk:   _Don’t ask. Do not say it.
> 
>  
> 
> _Interviewer #2 : _Did you –
> 
>  
> 
> _Captain Kirk:   _Lieutenant –
> 
>  
> 
> _Interviewer #2 : ... _Did you always plan to kill yourself?
> 
>  
> 
> _Captain Kirk:   _…
> 
>  
> 
> _Interviewer #2 : _Captain?
> 
>  
> 
> _Captain Kirk:   _I’m going to have to waive this one.
> 
>  
> 
> _Interviewer #2 : _You are only allowed two chances to do that, and I have to –
> 
>  
> 
> _Captain Kirk:   _I know how this works! Yes, I’m using my first card.
> 
>  
> 
> _Interviewer #2 : _Noted. Moving on –
> 
>  
> 
> _Captain Kirk:   _… you know what? I would like that water now.
> 
>  
> 
> _Interviewer #2 : _…
> 
>  
> 
> _Captain Kirk:   _Actually, make that one energy drink. Grape.
> 
>  
> 
> . 
> 
> .
> 
> .
> 
>   
>   
> 
> _Admiral Archer:_ How do you currently classify your relationship with the Captain?
> 
>  
> 
> _Commander Spock:_ We do not have one.
> 
>  
> 
> _Admiral Archer:_ Commander, you are well aware that I have seen –
> 
>  
> 
> _Commander Spock:_ Then when you state your queries, you should be mindful of your wording and elaborate your meaning for the utmost clarification. Do you require my relationship status in reality or in the SIMULATION?
> 
>  
> 
> _Admiral Archer:_ I ask because you refused to sign something we thought you would sign in a heartbeat. You’re a valued officer. I ask because we can’t tell the difference between the two scenarios right now.
> 
>  
> 
> _Commander Spock:_ I have my reasons for not signing the contract.
> 
>  
> 
> _Admiral Archer:_ You understand the regulations regarding fraternization and why we have to –
> 
>  
> 
> _Commander Spock:_ The decision has been made. There is no need to explain your logic, Admiral.
> 
>  
> 
> _Admiral Archer:_ It would be naïve to think Captain Kirk doesn’t have some affect on you. You died.
> 
>  
> 
> _Commander Spock:_ I chose my path willingly without influence.
> 
>  
> 
> _Admiral Archer:_ So if Captain Kirk decided to remain in the SIM, you would have gone through with it anyways?
> 
>  
> 
> _Commander Spock:_ …
> 
>  
> 
> _Admiral Archer:_ Commander?
> 
>  
> 
> _Commander Spock:_ For the record, I am now instilling my first waiver for my POST-SIM interview.
> 
>  
> 
> _Admiral Archer:_ … Noted. Now, regarding Camp Salvatus. When Markus asked for your orders, you hesitated to answer. Did you want the windows shot, Commander?
> 
>  
> 
> _Commander Spock:_ As you saw, I did not partake in that decision. If you believe I hesitated, then that is your perspective, and an opinionated one I might add. Markus initiated a command he already planned to fulfill with or without my orders.   He … he -
> 
>  
> 
> _Admiral Archer:_ Commander?
> 
>  
> 
> _Commander Spock:_ I fail to see the purpose in this.
> 
>  
> 
> _Admiral Archer:_ The purpose in what?
> 
>  
> 
> _Commander Spock:_ The purpose in discussing a person who was in fact - _not_ a person. His actions were a reflection of THE SIMULATION operatives.
> 
>  
> 
> _Admiral Archer:_ As you already know from viewing multiple SIMs yourself, the program additions adapt to the situation.
> 
>  
> 
> _Commander Spock:_ Markus’ actions were not a reflection of mine.
> 
>  
> 
> _Admiral Archer:_ Commander, I need to know if you _agreed_ with it.
> 
>  
> 
> _Commander Spock:_ I understood it however; I can see that it could have been avoided. I admit that it was unorthodox.
> 
>  
> 
> _Admiral Archer:_ Why?
> 
>  
> 
> _Commander Spock:_ Some of the camp members might have been redeemable.
> 
>  
> 
> _Admiral Archer:_ How would you have gone about that?
> 
>  
> 
> _Commander Spock:_ I decided to consider those options only after a resolution. We were in the middle of a conflict.
> 
>  
> 
> _Admiral Archer:_ Some would have said it’s a bit easier, blowing the whole place to kingdom come.
> 
>  
> 
> _Commander Spock:_ Other options should always be considered. It is easier, but it is also a war crime.
> 
>  
> 
> _Admiral Archer:_ Some would also say that torture is a war crime.
> 
>  
> 
> _Commander Spock:_ Comparing myself to those devoid of logic is most illogical.
> 
>  
> 
> _Admiral Archer:_ I feel obligated to inform you -- Captain Kirk was the one who discussed possible extreme measures regarding the mission during your absence.
> 
>  
> 
> _Commander Spock:_ …
> 
>  
> 
> _Admiral Archer:_ Commander –
> 
>  
> 
> _Commander Spock:_ I am certain that he had valid reasons to conclude to such a resolution.
> 
>  
> 
> _Admiral Archer:_ Even if it’s a war crime?
> 
>  
> 
> _Commander Spock:_ He must have evaluated the situation considering his personal experiences. Experiences I did not consider. Experiences that were possible to repeat within the base should they have invaded our walls.
> 
>  
> 
> _Admiral Archer:_ As long as it’s to protect the base, you don’t care?
> 
>  
> 
> _Commander Spock:_ I was Chief.
> 
>  
> 
> _Admiral Archer:_ But Kirk wasn’t. He just became council if anything.
> 
>  
> 
> _Commander Spock:_ Being Captain is not only a rank, Admiral. It is the perfect combination of certain characteristics that Kirk already obtained. Simply being in stasis did not spontaneously remove them. The primary objective of the SIM is to observe us as how we are.
> 
>  
> 
> _Admiral Archer:_ And what is Kirk -
> 
>  
> 
> _Commander Spock: Captain_ Kirk.
> 
>  
> 
> _Admiral Archer:_ Doesn't this logic also apply to the generator? _  
> _
> 
>  
> 
> _Commander Spock : _Negative. _  
> _
> 
>  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~X


	31. SIM – PART TWENTY TWO

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more SIM ! *cries*  
> Song: Through the Night by Roniit & Trivecta (chillssss!!!)  
> Warning: Animal murder & sexual content (refer to notes for chapter summary.)  
> This is double and 1/4 my normal chapter size *dies*  
> Enjoy!!!
> 
> ~X

** SIM- PART TWENTY-TWO**

 

 

Jim wasn’t surprised when he woke up on Spock’s room floor. What surprised him was that Spock was right over him, frantically moving his mouth with nothing coming out of it. Come to think of it – the room was ringing excruciatingly loud.

There were hands on his back and shoulders, holding him to the side, and yet the room was still moving…

Everything continued to ache until darkness loomed over, covering him in a coat of inevitable agony.

 

.

.

.

 

There was a first for everything, and Jim was childishly hoping that there wouldn’t be a first for this incident. His eyes were locked on the ceiling, avoiding Spock’s worried expression beside him.

It’s been six days since Karim’s sweet sixteen, and a stupid part of him forgot that he had the tendency to just scare the hell out of everyone around him.

 

Spock sat up on his side of the bed and gazed warily down at him. “Are you fully alert?”

 

Jim had his arms crossed, still looking at the ceiling. He answered by nodding, not trusting himself to speak. He hasn’t said a word since he cleaned his mouth and wiped his face with a napkin drenched in water. His jaw hurt.

 

“Jim, how many fingers am I holding up?”

 

He didn’t want to look. Looking at those fingers would mean being closer to looking at Spock’s face, and that was something he could not do.

 

“Four.”

 

Spock’s sigh was indication enough that he got it wrong. “The correct answer is zero.”

 

He gulped. “…oh.”

 

The sudden movement on the bed startled Jim. Spock abruptly moved from his sitting position and placed his knees on each side of Jim’s hips.

 

Jim instinctively looked up to see Spock freakin’ _sitting_ on him. He pressed his weight on his elbows and tried to move back a bit. Spock was preventing any attempt to retreat. It was stupid to try anyways - they were still in lockdown.

 

“You refuse to comply when I only endeavor to determine the state of your health.”

 

Jim bit the inside of his cheek.

 

“Forgive me if I am incorrect.” Spock began, his hand raking back his hair. “I sense shame.”

 

His response was to look away with a scoff.

 

“Although I cannot uncover the possible reasoning behind it.”

 

“You can’t because it doesn’t make sense.” He huffed out. “It’s still there anyways, Spock – just lingering.”

 

Because of his stubbornness to look at Spock, he didn’t receive any warning for the warm hand gliding up his abdomen under his shirt. He put his tongue between his teeth to prevent a sound.

 

“I do not care for the logic of your reasoning – I only desire for you to confide in me, especially when you are this disquiet.”

 

His shirt was rolled above his hipbones and reaching near his bandages. The air was kissing his exposed skin.

 

“Spock…”

 

Another hand was added to the other, working together to massage the unwounded canvas underneath.

 

“All I wish is for you to speak to me without the inclination to always fit logic. Do not let this become a border to our communication.”

 

He let out a sharp exhale, slumping back, his elbows no longer carrying his weight. The gathered fabric was right above his hardened nipples.

 

“Please do not build upon a habit that will hinder us in any – “

 

Who was Spock to ask such a thing while messing with him like this? “You don’t play fair – “

 

Spock took the opportunity to lean down and whisper at his ear, medium strands tickling his cheek. Jim sat there and waited, unable to breathe properly. “I do not play, Jim.”

 

This guy was going to be the death of him. “I get what you’re saying … I really do.”

 

Spock’s low hum resonated through his body.

 

“… I know it’s not my fault why I’m like this.”

 

“Then why?”

 

“I just – “ Jim just breathed in and let it all out. “I just wish I wasn’t like this anymore. I don’t even know how I got here, Spock. It’s like I’ve always been like this. Except, if I was always like this, then why can’t I get used to it. It still feels foreign to me.”

 

“So when we first met – “

 

“I was serious, Spock. I have no clue. Maybe one day I just shook so hard, I hit something and got amnesia. God knows I can’t remember much up until the lights were first sighted.”

 

Spock sat back up and tilted his head with question. “I see…”

 

Jim skeptically gazed at him. “Do you – really?”

 

“I sometimes have identical thoughts.” Spock admitted. “I … I feel as though memories post-invasion are the only ones that obtain immense detail. I have eidetic memory – every memory should be with immense detail.”

Spock turned to the windows, and watched the lights dance around, the colors illuminating in the small four walls. “I can see my planet, Jim and even since I have regained my telepathic abilities, I cannot connect with it or any Vulcan for that matter. I can recall every moment prior to the invasion, except if I concentrate on one, the details blend together that I can only discern them as vague.”

 

Jim nodded, so grateful to hear his thoughts broadcasted back to him. “It feels wrong.”

 

“Indeed.” Spock switched his gaze back at him. He lifted his hips up to move his knees back together and lay next to Jim.

 

Jim wrapped his arms around Spock’s torso, facing him. “Maybe the lights can do more damage than we thought.”

 

Spock’s brows furrowed with a slight frown. “It is the only possibility I am willing to accept.”

 

Any other possibility would be too much for them to handle. Denial was their best path if they wanted to maintain their sanity.

 

.

.

.

 

“James!!” Karim greeted Jim when he entered his old room. The kid was sitting on his bed, tying his shoes with the fattest grin possible.

 

Dr. Cardenas already explained to Jim that Karim didn’t sustain any injuries besides the rashes from the ropes on his wrists and ankles. When he retrieved Karim from the camp, he could see that Karim was fine.

Now that Jim knew exactly what these people were capable of, he endeavored to ask Karim personally. Every attempt had been shoved away so far.

Karim was cornered.

 

“Unlike you, Bud here has been keeping me company.” Kim moped before turning to the mannequin. “Isn’t that right, Bud?” He patted the swirled cheeks.

 

Jim stood in the room, weakly smiling at the person he thought dead not long ago. “I’m sure Bud would like to return to me.”

 

“No!” Karim pointed to him. “You’re not taking her away from me!”

 

He couldn’t help but squint. “Her?”

 

“Do you _see_ a penis?” The teenager reprimanded. “Bud is ball-less - Maybe she just has flat boobs with a pixy cut!”

 

He could only roll his eyes and go along with it. Bud did have masculine features, but he let it go because it could honestly be up for debate now that he thought about it. He found Bud naked, not assigned to a gender specific part of the store.

 

Karim tsked, “You have no imagination.”

 

“I have plenty.” He defended himself while walking to Karim’s bed.

 

The kid scratched his head with a smile. “So what’s up James?”

 

“Just checking in.”

 

The smile disappeared. “In case you’re going to ask, I’m fine.”

 

“You never mentioned what they did to you.”

 

“James, I’ll tell you what I told Chief – they shoved me in the shed and left me alone. My biggest complaint was that they didn’t feed me that night.” Karim shook his head. “I don’t know why you’re worrying about me when I was the one who royally fucked up.”

 

“You were following your gut – “

 

“And my gut’s shit. It’s my gut’s fault for putting you and council in a position to kill over a hundred people man!”

 

He gulped at the wave of guilt that gripped his organs with a fierce fist. “It couldn’t have been prevented.”

 

“That doesn’t make me feel better.” Karim interjected. “It never will.”

 

_“Karim!!”_

 

The two stared at each other when the angry voice interrupted them.

 

“You’d think that Ana being shot would make her less scary.” Karim sighed while strolling towards the door. “I have another shift – part of my punishment.” The kid cheesed at Jim. It was good that Karim understood that extra shifts were his only punishment when there could have been more.

 

_“Kariiiim!!”_

 

Jim chuckled at that. “Can’t keep you now, can I?”

 

“One more thing.” Karim glanced at him for a brief moment before marching to him, wrapping his arms around Jim. “I never thanked you man.”

 

Jim stood there, smiling ear-to-ear from the gesture. “No thanks needed.” He patted the kid’s back.

 

Karim stepped back. He walked to the door, and then halted before opening it. “One more thing.”

 

Jim narrowed his eyes, wondering what it could be.

 

Karim walked back and hugged him once again. He nuzzled his cheek on Jim’s chest. “I never thanked you man.”

 

“Uhh …” He awkwardly patted Karim’s back again.

 

“Well, see you later!” Karim walked back to the door.

 

Jim stood there blinking, completely confused.

 

The door swished open this time, but Karim never left. The teenager just stood there, frozen in thought. “One more thing.”

 

Jim tilted his head, breathing in deep. “You want to … thank me?”

 

Karim quickly turned around, eyebrows up with shock. “Wow – How’d you know?!”

 

_What the fuck?_

 

Karim scratched his neck with a chuckle. “I guess it makes sense. You must think I’m horrible, but thank you so much – “

 

_“I swear to God, Karim!!”_

 

They both jerked up from the vocals worthy of an alarm.

 

“You should go.” Jim suggested, pointing to the exit while trying to hide his cringe.

 

All alone in the room, he made a mental note to inform Dr. Cardenas.

Whatever that was – it wasn’t normal.

 

.

.

.

 

 

Leonard covered his ears. It wasn’t him yelling this time, but it was M’Benga.

 

Everyone inched away from the bodies and the furious doctor, clenching their devices like the doctor would somehow grab them and smash it.

 

When M’Benga demanded Leonard to connect them to the SIM Ops room, he did so without hesitation.

 

_“McCoy … I respectfully ask that you cease calling every time when– “_

 

“McCoy? McCoy?!” M’Benga began, his veins sticking out of his temples. “You think McCoy is the only one capable of reacting in the presence of complete bullshit?!”

 

_“…”_

 

“Who did it?”

 

_“… I can’t reveal.”_

 

“Who was the incompetent officer who fucked up?!?”

 

Leonard and the rest of the team stepped back, exchanging concerned looks.

 

A new voice interrupted the line soon after. _“Dr. M’Benga. This is Lieutenant Lyn on the line.”_

 

“Lieutenant, how could someone fail so _massively_ under your supervision?”

_“I assure you, the situation is being handled, and I believe the Captain has shoved the moment away as a result of possible head injury.”_

 

“Dr. Cardenas already cleared him. She wouldn’t **_miss_** a head injury. If he looked into this – it wouldn’t make sense, Lieutenant.”

 

_“Doctor –“_

 

“What if it were Commander Spock?! Would he simply **_shove_** it away?”

 

_“…”_

 

“No. The answer is ‘No” You want to know why?” M’Benga jibed. “It’s because they can already sense something wrong!”

 

_“Understood doctor.”_

 

“Good, because you get a slap on the wrist this time. Next time, I will be after all your heads should the bodies near me reach an overload of any kind.”

 

The line ended with a click, and Leonard looked away with his hands up when M’Benga glared at him and everyone else.

 

The people under the SIM could not discover that they were in some fabricated world. The grade would be INVALID, and depending on the level, it would result in a FAIL or retake.

 

“Back to work.” The doctor scoffed.

 

Leonard knew M’Benga wasn’t angry with them per se – it was just displacement and he understood that perfectly.

 

.

.

.

 

Markus stared at Jim up and down. “You ready, Lightrunner?”

 

Jim nodded, rolling his shoulders, super ready for this.

 

“Too bad Ana won’t come even though she’s cleared. You probably won’t compare to her, but you’re better than nothing.”

 

Jim winced back, his eyes squinting all while deeply offended. He should walk away. It was him that was doing the council member a favor anyways. He could get fresh air another time.

 

Markus mischievously grinned. The council member pressed the button, opening the door leading them to Clayton’s post. He strolled in and grabbed two rifles for them.

 

Markus chucked one in Jim’s direction.

 

Clayton looked at them, staring with bugged eyes. “Why’re you guys leaving before lunch?”

 

“Because we’re going to hunt us some dinner.” Markus declared.

 

Clayton uncrossed his arms, and instantly became giddy with excitement. “You haven’t gotten us some real meat in ages!”

 

“I’ve been off my game.” Markus frowned.

 

Jim cringed when Markus patted his back - hard. “Now, I have Jimmy with me!”

 

“Yea …” He awkwardly smiled at Clayton, clutching his rifle to his chest.

 

“You’ve been cleared? I can’t have Cardenas on my back now…”

 

Jim had to beg on his knees, but yea he was cleared. “Yep.”

 

“Chief’s not coming either?”

 

Markus flinched back. “Since when does Chief ever hunt with me, Clayton?”

 

“Well…”

 

Jim didn’t miss the way Clayton briefly glanced at him. He couldn’t blame the guy for thinking the obvious. Spock couldn’t argue with him over this. If he was council, he would do council duties, and that included anything outside these walls.

 

Katherine, Savitra and all of G shift were ready for the work. Katherine chanted to the whole base that there would be ‘A mighty feast fit for kings’ in as much old English as she could.

 

The gate holder opened the second door with a grin. “Alright then. Have fun out there.”

 

Him and Markus both muttered their thanks. They marched to one of the trucks – the one without bullet holes – and threw their equipment inside.

 

When an alarm rang behind them, the doors opened again – this time with Anastasia walking towards them with Spock by her side, his limp fully gone.

 

Markus and him exchanged a quizzical look before looking back at the two uninvited guests. Jim jumped off the truck, ignoring the phantom pain on his side and stalked right up to Spock, ignoring Ana completely.

 

He already said he was going. He wasn’t some kid. “Spock, what are you doing?”

 

Spock held his rifle closer to his face. “It appears that I will be aiding your hunt this afternoon.”

 

Jim squinted his eyes as if the action of seeing Spock clearer would make him understand those words better. “…Wait, what?”

 

“The computer cannot detect life forms outside of the permissible range. You have made it clear that you wish to continue your activities, so I have reached a compromise.”

 

“You’re going to _hunt_?”

 

“Negative. I will drive the vehicle.” Spock stated. “Should anything go awry, I will be present to protect the council as Chief.”

 

Jim cocked his head up with a smug smile. “Sure… Come along now, oh great Chief.”

 

“You can’t be serious Chief?!” Markus yelled from behind them, Anastasia right beside him, all content and ready to go.

 

Spock looked at Markus, and raised his voice a bit so he could be heard. “My attendance is not an attempt to humor you.”

 

Markus’ twitch wasn’t hard to miss.

 

.

.

.

 

An army of mule deer swished past the truck in the forest – the only sand-less terrain past the safe range around the base. The amount of green was refreshing because one could look down and see nothing but its beautiful variations, the sunlight highlighting the leaves and old bark.

 

Everything looked normal, untouched.

 

Jim sat in the passenger seat this time, leaning closer to Spock to whisper. “Are you comfortable with all of this?”

 

Spock turned to him before looking back at the scenery in front of them. “There are only twenty-six people in the base who willfully refrain from ingesting meat. I cannot demand the rest to adapt to my way of life.”

 

Jim accepted the answer and nodded. He placed his palm on Spock’s knee and gave it a little squeeze. There was nothing else for him to say or do, except let him know that he understood. He wasn’t the only one who threw away his fundamentals.

 

Markus called to them and declared that this was the perfect place to park the truck. Like before, they all had their earpieces and Spock was the one to man the vehicle. Luckily, Spock had some binoculars with him.

 

Jim, Anastasia and Markus went into the forest, ready for the challenge.

 

“This is what happens when humans decide to disappear. There’s soo many of these things.” Markus declared, moving over a couple fallen branches. “Soon, everywhere will be full of them. **Planet of the Deer** , I tell ya!”

 

Anastasia and Jim shook their heads and stepped away, dispersing to cover more ground.

 

 _“Remember – “_ Markus began. _“Slow and steady wins the race. We’re not on a tight schedule - this ain’t like the cougars, guys.”_

 

 _“Let's stay away from those, please._ ” Ana sighed.

 

.

.

.

 

Spock looked through the binoculars switching his view from the council members, ignoring the usual chatter. He would deny that he kept his eyes on Jim for two minutes longer than Anastasia and Markus.

 

Jim’s aim was impeccable. So far he had a one hundred percent success rate with two shots - two deer down. Perhaps Jim had experience with hunting pre-invasion.

 

Another deer was in shooting range from Markus and Spock announced it to the council member. He looked away when a shot erupted in his ear, and then another and then another.

 

“You are here to hunt, not to slaughter as if this is a game, Markus.” He reprimanded.

 

_ “Who’s slaughtering anything? There were three of them!”  _

 

Impossible.

 

“You must be mistaken. I did not see three.”

 

_ “How could you not? They were right next to each other?” _

 

Anastasia intercepted the conversation. _ “Chief, are you okay?” _

Spock put down his binoculars and rubbed his eyelids. He did not calculate incorrectly. It was simple mathematics. One did not equal three.

_ “I’m sure the other two just barged in. It’s not a big deal Spock.” _

 

Jim was incorrect. It was a ‘big deal’, because the other two could not have spontaneously appeared.

_“I caught one_.” Anastasia affirmed.

_ “I think we have enough. Let’s get them home, okay?” _

_“I’m right with you Jim.”_ Anastasia agreed.

 

Spock started the truck and steered the wheel, brainstorming how deer could have conjured right under him. His first stop was to Jim and when he turned the key to shut off the engine, he noticed Jim staring off into the woods with his rifle facing down.

 

“Jim.” He announced when he stepped out.

 

His words didn’t spark any attention.

 

“Jim?”

 

Jim blinked a few times, almost startled at his arrival.

 

“Spock … uh that was quick.”

 

He only blinked, unsure of how to respond. “You were staring.”

 

Jim scoffed. “I think this forest is releasing some sort of poisonous pollen. Maybe I’m hallucinating or something…”

 

“What has led you to that conclusion?”

 

Jim pursed his lips and pointed ahead. “That tree …”

 

Spock raised a brow, waiting for Jim to elaborate.

 

“I swear that tree wasn’t there before.” Jim added. “I know because that’s where one of the deer is. I was looking there for God knows how many minutes, and I’m just now noticing it.”

 

Spock decided not to extend Jim’s worry because he could not confirm nor deny the theory.

 

All of them threw the material at the back and placed the dead deer on the bed of the truck. Everything seemed normal to Markus and Anastasia, however him and Jim thought very differently.

 

.

.

.

 

Many of the older men took the job of cutting the meat along with Clayton, Anastasia and Katherine. The teenagers ran away with looks and whines of disgust, which was ridiculous because they were the ones chanting about meat earlier on. Jim held in a laugh when Terrence yelled at them over the stupidity.

Savitra, being the goddess she was, told Jim that there was a tray prepared for him and Spock since they missed lunch, and dinner wouldn’t be for another two hours. He told her he would get them the second he cleaned up.

 

Savitra looked to her side and Adriana and Kumar jumped in front of them with some folded clothes in their palms.

All three of them graciously accepted and made their way down the corridor. Markus, Spock and him strolled to one of the restrooms and proceeded to strip off their dirty, bloody clothes.

 

Markus was in the stall between them, _unapologetically_ apologizing for cock-blocking them. Every word made Jim want to drown himself in the falling water. How did one drown in a shower?

 

He was seriously considering it.

 

“There is a possibility that we may go scouting for more supplies, Markus.” Spock began, his voice carrying more weight in the thick restroom walls. “And on that day, I may return with a simple statement. _‘I regret to report that Markus has become another casualty of the lights._ ’ I assure you, they would never question it.”

 

That had to be the darkest humor Jim’s ever heard from Spock.

 

It must have shocked Markus too, because he was quiet for a moment too long. “A simple ‘shut up’ would've been fine!”

 

"But it also would have been unnecessarily rude."

 

Jim's laugh wasn’t human.

**  
**

.

.

.

 

 

Dinner arrived. Jim chewed on a strawberry, quickly filling his trays and avoided the scent of cooking seasoned meat. The scent was an uncommon one, and he discovered that he didn’t crave it or desire it in any way. He wouldn’t call himself a vegetarian or vegan or whatever … it’s just that his stomach wasn’t a big fan of it at the moment, knowing very well that the moment wouldn’t arrive again for a very long time.

 

He nodded to those ahead of him while walking to Spock’s room. When he reached his destination, the door swished open, and he spotted Spock sitting cross-legged on his bed with eyes closed.

 

Jim was stuck in his spot. This felt like he was interrupting a prayer. Fortunately, Spock breathed in and opened his eyes, looking right at Jim unbothered.

 

“I assumed you would attend dinner – a feast I have heard to be fit for kings.”

 

“Well…” Jim said while setting the trays on the bed between them. “I am here instead with an abundance of food. I added more fruits this time too.” He tossed a grape in his mouth, smiling with puffy cheeks.

 

Spock raised a brow. “Meat is a rare occurrence, Jim. You should join the rest.”

 

Jim narrowed his eyes. He decided to then place the trays carefully on the floor on his side of the bed, near the wall. Spock seemed curious as to what he was doing, so Jim answered his questions by sitting closer to Spock. He pressed his weight on his knees, inching up with his palms on each side of Spock’s neck. Spock glanced up at him, his breath hitched from the sudden eruption of his personal space bubble.

 

Jim leaned down and captured Spock’s lips softly and lingered in its warmth. These were moments he cherished above anything else, especially when Spock wrapped him tightly in response, carefully avoiding the healing wound. The pain wasn’t as sharp as it used to be days ago. He could handle it.

 

On the other hand, he couldn’t handle it if Spock refrained from touching him.

 

They separated, and Jim whispered above Spock’s lips “If I ate any of it, I don’t think you’d want to kiss me all night.” He smirked like the tease he knew he was.

 

“I cannot answer that with absolute certainty – “ Spock admitted, his hands gliding up Jim’s shirt just like this morning.

 

He rested his chin on Spock’s hair, allowing a small moan to escape.

 

Spock nuzzled Jim’s collarbones and spoke right above his deprived skin. “My sanity might be in question if I chose to not kiss you while in our bed for all of lockdown.”

 

_Fuck._

 

Jim knew in that moment that like his tolerance for alcohol, his tolerance for touch was nonexistent.

 

Spock didn't hold back, sensually caressing Jim’s naked skin, his voice humming through Jim’s neurons. “Might I add, that there is more to kiss than just your captivating grape and strawberry sweetened mouth?”

 

Jim quickly inched back from Spock, sitting back on the bed with his shocked eyes glued on the man that was making him crazy and forcefully gulped. Without thought, he clung to his own wrinkled shirt and threw it off him, letting it fall to the side. Spock instantly opened his legs without looking away, dark eyes boring into him with determination. Jim crawled forward until they were locked in a crashing kiss, moving closer together, space ceasing to exist.

 

They deepened the kiss, devouring the taste of the other. There was nothing slow or relaxing about this, because this time – they were so, so hungry. All consideration of their healing wounds was moved aside into some dusty irrelevant corner.

 

Jim buried his fingers in Spock’s hair, desiring so much while sucking in Spock’s energy. He felt Spock’s yearning intensely crash into him. He absorbed it, perfectly understanding that he felt it solely because Spock wanted him to, and that had to be the most erotic thing he’d ever experienced.

 

His body still had the tendency to not listen to him, but instead of shaking involuntarily, it craved for contact. If Spock let him go because they weren’t ‘supposed’ to be ready, then he would rein all terror on this man. Jim transferred all shameless wanting, hoping to relay that message loud and clear.

 

There was no danger to be found, and yet they urgently grabbed every inch of the other, soft moans transforming into desperate groans while Jim fisted Spock’s shirt, hoping to get rid of this useless border.

 

After the fabric fell to the floor, they reconnected. Spock buried his face under Jim’s chin again, both of them releasing sounds they didn’t think capable when their bare skins touched one another.

 

For a fraction of a second, he worried about Spock’s leg and if this was okay or even possib –

 

A surprising whine escaped his throat.

 

He did not expect for those fingers to dive into the hem of his pants, squeezing his ass and thigh. Spock was consuming him, using his hand as a tool, effortlessly gliding across his skin. The sheets wrinkled, and the bed dipped down under their weight.

 

He pressed his weight on his knees again to give Spock more room all while completely unable to let go of Spock’s mouth. He felt his pants slide down, the obedient material following Spock’s fingers, the air tickling his revealed skin.

 

Spock moved up and pushed down on Jim’s chest, laying him on the bed. Jim had his back to the sheets and watched Spock change positions so he could loom over him. Jim lifted his hands and brought Spock down to him for another open kiss.

He felt Spock’s hands around his thighs, pushing him forward, his pants thrown off entirely. Never has he been controlled in such a way. Was he just weightless to Spock this whole time?

 

“Off.” He demanded under Spock’s swollen lips while tugging at Spock’s waist. He couldn’t reach far enough to get rid of them completely.

 

Spock’s hair trickled on Jim’s face when he looked down between them, following Jim’s forearms until he reach his own pants, slipping them off.

 

They aligned their bodies immediately, locking lips and their hands exploring as much as possible. Jim rocked his hips with a gasp, Spock holding onto him with a hard grip as they moved.

 

He wrapped the black strands of Spock’s thick hair around his fingers and moved them away, craving to see all of Spock’s beautiful face. The tips of those sharp eyebrows would usually be hidden, while those ears were hidden indefinitely. Jim understood why he did it, and he also knew that it wasn’t always intentional, just a result of conditioning - but it was never necessary within the base – it was never necessary with him and he needed Spock to know that.

 

“Jim –“ Spock’s eyes widened, halting in his movements.

 

“You said you were going to kiss me all over.” He weakly smiled, still a little dazed. “I thought you didn’t play.” Spock sure as hell was playing with him all morning.

 

Spock quickly lifted himself up - his eyes narrowed while gazing down at Jim with his chest rising from his deep inhale.

 

Jim absorbed Spock’s figure above him, raking his eyes back and forth the patches of hairs, scars and defined muscles – He knew that after this he would burn all of Spock’s coats because each of them were a sin. Sins that needed to be rectified at once.

 

Spock’s cock was long and slender just like his person, but darker than the rest of him, filled with blood. Although Spock had the same shape as any human, he would have been just fine with something literally out of this world. He stared, wanting to do everything with it.

As if it noticed Jim’s attention, it slightly twitched to the right. At the same time, Spock’s lips twitched with the naughtiest grin Jim’s ever seen. He gulped under the memorizing sight.

 

“As you wish.”

 

He was not prepared for when Spock sunk between his legs with ease. He was not prepared for when Spock bit his inner thigh and then licked the spot repeatedly. Jim fell back and discovered that he couldn’t even look at the ceiling, only the insides of his palms as they covered his eyes.

The sensation of kisses treading deeper, teasing the sensitive skin by his balls caused him to shudder with anticipation. He felt Spock lick him up all the way to his aching tip. He could not blame himself for the moan that came from him.

One of Spock’s hands clung to his thigh while the other rested on his abdomen. If only he concentrated on this feeling then he could –

 

No.

 

Jim was entranced by the sudden heat that engulfed him whole, gliding down and up again. He fisted the blankets on his sides as Spock sucked with no difficulty and showing no signs of coming up for air.

He was a goner. His tolerance was definitely nonexistent, neglected of this touch for far too long.

 

_Oh, fucking hell_

 

Spock inched forward, lifting Jim’s thigh and let go of Jim’s throbbing cock. Jim didn’t know how he had the guts to look down at Spock because he was sure they melted. Nevertheless, he tried, and saw concern plastered on Spock’s face.

 

He felt it as well.

 

“If you stop – I don’t know how or when, but I will _end_ you Spock.”

 

He hoped that was confirmation enough.

 

Spock pushed Jim closer, making them thoroughly connected and touching in every way. He kept bringing Jim to an edge by his ceaseless actions.

 

Jim found one of Spock’s hands and locked his fingers with it, surprised he could even do that from the tongue teasing his swollen head.

 

A moan erupted from both of them when he caressed Spock’s fingers and knuckles. Feeling a crash of arousal, he continued in the movements, soon discovering that they were his and Spock’s meshed together.

Spock’s licks were softer and less hard but just as capable to make Jim whimper.

Wanting to further his discovery, he pressed his weight on his elbows, moving up a bit while still holding Spock’s hand. Now that he was close enough, he licked Spock’s palm all the way to his index finger.

 

The tremble from Jim’s lap was evident, especially when Spock released Jim with a pop, unable to continue.

 

“Oh, Spock – you are so lucky I’m just finding about this now.” He kissed Spock’s palm with a mischievous expression.

 

The visual of Spock debauched and green made Jim so eager to continue.

 

“I should have thoroughly sucked the icing from your fingers last week.”

 

Spock’s moan was a beautiful melody he needed to record to replace all those stupid speeches.

 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t hear that.” He smiled under Spock’s hand.

 

“Jim – “

 

He brought two fingers in his mouth, sparking another sound from Spock. He swirled his tongue around the digits with a low chuckle vibrating with it.

 

Spock climbed forward, taking his hand away and pressed it on Jim’s chest, swiftly pushing him back down.

 

Jim was too shocked by the sudden movement to properly register Spock leaning to the side of the bed and bending down. When Spock got up, he had a small bottle in his hand, and he moved the tip to his mouth, skillfully clicking it open with his teeth.

The wave of pure determination that impacted his mind was incredibly strong.

 

“We have two options.” Spock began, his voice fully returned and strong. He then revealed a plastic square. “I either utilize this compartment or I do not, whichever way you choose – “

 

He hasn’t been with anyone in over a year. Dr. Cardenas also declared him officially free of any STDs. She had no qualms in mentioning that Spock was good to go, and even though he didn’t ask from that information, he was grateful to have received it. “I don’t need it. Do you?”

 

Spock raised a brow. “This is my first experience with forni – “

 

“Don’t.” He interjected, gaping while blinking like an idiot “Don’t ever use that word, Spock.” He said, still not believing Spock’s statement.

 

“Vulcans do not lie, Jim.”

 

Jim fell back again. He wanted Spock to throw it away, but the rooms were going to be locked soon, and there would be nowhere to properly clean himself after. “If we can find a way to open this door – “

 

“I will override the lockdown commands.” Spock promptly declared, his voice unable to hide his want.

 

“Throw it away then.” He laughed, too stunned to even continue with this conversation.

 

Immediately, Spock was on top of him again.

 

“Are you sure?” Jim muttered.

 

“Do not doubt me Jim.” Spock kissed Jim’s forehead before pecking the tip of his nose. He hummed into the hollow of Jim’s throat. “I thoroughly intend to be inside you.”

 

Before Jim could respond, Spock’s wet hand wrapped around him with a squeeze.

 

“Holy hell – “

 

Jim automatically lifted his thighs up to give Spock access. It was incredibly odd on how much he wanted to be fucked and how much he yearned to do the fucking, which is impossible to do at the same time … at least in this situation.

 

He was too deeply lost in the moment to think straight.

 

One finger teased his entrance, shocking Jim with such extremity; he clung tighter onto Spock’s shoulders. Spock barely entered before sliding out again, causing Jim to moan frantically.

His nails clawed into Spock’s back when one cold and coated digit finally fully slid inside, resulting in another gust of pleasure filling him.

 

Jim kept internally chanting for _another._ Thankfully, Spock obliged while kissing his neck and soon, he was carefully being stretched. Spock’s hitched breaths along his jugular confirmed that Spock was just as affected.

 

The fingers traveled deeper, hitting just the spot.

 

Before Jim could word out that Spock needed to keep at that angle, Spock caressed it again, fully knowing what he was doing. Spock lifted his head up, his brows knit together with his mouth open, lust floating between them as they both simultaneously let out a sound.

 

Spock could only huskily whisper after that, and Jim heard his name uttered from those beautiful lips.

 

Without properly thinking, he just started to beg. “Fuck me, Spock … please just – “

 

The fingers retracted and soon, Jim was pulled to the edge of the bed, Spock fully standing straight on the floor.

 

Spock held his leaking cock, aligning it to enter Jim. The whole image was something he could never create in his dirty mind. This would forever top them all, being the source of future sleepless nights.

 

He let out a low guttural whine when Spock opened him up bit by bit while Spock used one of Jim’s leg to muffle his own moan, moving deeper inside. Jim’s groan was a combination of hissing with pain and exhales of relief.

 

“Faster.” He groaned, unapologetic by his demands. He needed the pain to subside quickly.

 

A thrust later, and Jim’s head cocked back. The amount of wanton desire was a heavy aura, hypnotizing them with each thrust.

 

“Yes!” He yelled louder, matching Spock’s growls.

 

Spock leaned down, and Jim raised his hands, once again colliding in a kiss. It had to be the laziest kiss between them because they could only moan and pant over each other’s faces.

 

Spock continued at the angle, poking his prostate with fiery eyes. Jim just gave up, letting his head fall back. How he held on this long, he had no idea.

 

His right nipple was licked while Spock worked endlessly on him. Jim conjured enough energy to reflect Spock’s movements, thrusting together, twitching his hips against Spock.

 

He was drunk from Spock’s touches and mental caresses. Something hot was growing inside him and getting bigger. By Spock’s increasing movements and sounds, he could tell that Spock was feeling it too.

 

“Spock …” It was so pathetic. He could barely speak properly. “I… shit, I’m - ”

 

Spock dipped down and brushed their lips together. Jim took the opportunity and lightly bit Spock’s bottom lip as he held Spock’s face close. They were completely attuned, the searing heat bringing them to the tip of the cliff, and he wanted to fall to the abyss.

 

He felt Spock retract from him, placing his palm on Jim’s aching cock soon after, pumping him with tight quick movements. Spock moved in closer, and Jim did the same as they both breathed in each other’s air.

 

They clung to one another as the amorous wave shattered within them. The glowing bridge was not needed to detect how they fell in on themselves, their quick exhales and sudden jerks with their weakened, still arms. If any of them spoke, their voices would have surely broke.

Jim never wanted to let go of this happiness – a happiness that came out of nowhere and should have been extremely scarce. He never wanted to let go of Spock - _never_.

 

After their gasping subsided,  Jim could finally see better past the foggy glass of pleasure. Spock rested his head on Jim’s shoulders, and they remained there, enwrapped in each other.

 

.

.

.

 

“Did you just _sshh_ me?”

 

Jim chuckled as they made their way down the hallways and closed doors. They were both cold from the base's winds hitting their washed skin and damp hair. Honestly, the robes were unnecessary. They could skip around naked if they truly wanted to.

 

“I can already foresee their queries tomorrow after lockdown.” Spock mentioned for the millionth time.

 

Jim was seconds from letting out a porn star worthy moan, loud enough to echo in every section of the base, just to traumatize the Chief. Funny thing is - he shouldn’t have thought of that while holding Spock’s hand.

 

Spock narrowed his eyes. “You would not.”

 

Jim looked ahead and saw their door. He still had time. He turned around and smirked in return.

 

“Watch me.” He cheekily taunted.

 

Spock grabbed his forearm and led them into their room. The door slid open and in a quick moment, Jim was inside, looking at Spock with his back on the wall. By the time Spock stalked to him, Jim was already half way there and they met with a crushing kiss.

 

They remained there in post-coital glow and made out in a timeless manner ... that was until Jim's stomach growled.

They returned to the neglected food on the other side of the bed and ate in comfortable silence.

The rest of the night continued with uninterrupted subtle winds and purple petals.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay … so in an essence, Kirk has a seizure at night - Spock gets worried.  
> The council goes hunting for deer & the SIM is going through some glitches. Kirk and Spock notice the little changes, but it’s not a big deal. Oh, the Chief and new council member go at it like starving rabbits.
> 
> Note: Personally, I didn’t see the need for protection. We’re dealing with Celibate!!Jim and Virgin!Spock in a small, controlled environment with a doctor literally a few doors away. They’re adults in a monogamous, committed relationship.
> 
> To those who feel that it was wrong … sorry, not sorry. 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed!
> 
> ~X


	32. POST SIM - PART SIX

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was depressing to write.  
> I'm depressed now. 
> 
> Song: Memory by Direct (FijiWiji Remix)  
> Warning: Soo much denial - I think I'm sinking in it.  
> Enjoy...?
> 
> ~X

 

 

> ** POST SIM - PART SIX **
> 
>   
> 
>  
> 
> _Commander Spock:_ Identify yourself.
> 
>  
> 
> _Counselor Viik:_ T’Chel Viik – a counselor assigned to your SIMULATION.
> 
>  
> 
> _Commander Spock:_ Why have you powered off the recorder?
> 
>  
> 
> _Counselor Viik:_ Because my words are only meant for you and I. These humans could not comprehend them. There is no one observing us outside as well.
> 
>  
> 
> _Commander Spock:_ …
> 
>  
> 
> _Counselor Viik:_ I have considered that you may be uncomfortable with my presence considering the circumstances.
> 
>  
> 
> _Commander Spock:_ I am not uncomfortable, counselor. I am merely inquiring as to how you were allowed to view my SIMULATION without permission. You are not an operator, a doctor or an active judging Admiral.
> 
>  
> 
> _Counselor Viik:_ Prior to entering stasis, Captain Kirk personally informed them that he was concerned for your well-being. A logical query seeing as you are the first telepathic being to enter the SIM alongside another person. In response, they have discovered a compromise, hence my presence.
> 
>  
> 
> _Commander Spock:_ And what was the purpose of your presence?
> 
>  
> 
> _Counselor Viik:_ I was to assess the medical charts within each round, as well as deduce the effects this could have on your mind.
> 
>  
> 
> _Commander Spock:_ If you properly fulfilled your purpose then you would have advised them to cease the program entirely.
> 
>  
> 
> _Counselor Viik:_ I endeavored to do so.
> 
>  
> 
> _Commander Spock:_ When?
> 
>  
> 
> _Counselor Viik:_ During Round Five.
> 
>  
> 
> _Commander Spock:_ … State your queries.
> 
>  
> 
> _Counselor Viik:_ Commander Spock, I have requested to meet up with you because I believe you are making a critical mistake.
> 
>  
> 
> _Commander Spock:_ I do not care for your beliefs.
> 
>  
> 
> _Counselor Viik:_ Commander –
> 
>  
> 
> _Commander Spock:_ You should understand more than them. They do not comprehend what they have done –
> 
>  
> 
> _Counselor Viik:_ The lack of evidence gives them the right to present this contract to you. I am here because I do understand. These humans will never grasp what has taken place. You must seek alternatives.
> 
>  
> 
> _Commander Spock:_ …
> 
>  
> 
> _Counselor Viik:_ I am aware that you have read T’Pol’s reports.
> 
>  
> 
> _Commander Spock:_ I have.
> 
>  
> 
> _Counselor Viik:_ Then I will inform you that they are incomplete. T’Pol stated that the SIM has not damaged her mind, that everything remained intact. That it was safe.
> 
>  
> 
> _Commander Spock:_ I deduce my SIM to be unique.
> 
>  
> 
> _Counselor Viik:_ It is not. She was never the same. Many healers stated that her mind was a healthy one, identical to her medical statistics and SIM evaluations – just like you. She has preformed with her usual precision since. There was never proof to confirm her beliefs, resulting in T’Pol neglecting to include her reality in those reports. I know because she informed me personally.
> 
>  
> 
> _Commander Spock:_ She is Vulcan. What differences do you speak of?
> 
>  
> 
> _Counselor Viik:_ If the reports were never to be made public record, I believe she would have described how it affected her in detail. She was one of those who sought counseling.
> 
>  
> 
> _Commander Spock:_ Then her ill-informed reports were in vain. Every session would be on her record, thus blatantly exposing emotional compromise.
> 
>  
> 
> _Counselor Viik:_ I never logged them in. A deliberate task before you ask.
> 
>  
> 
> _Commander Spock:_ You purposefully ignored protocol?
> 
>  
> 
> _Counselor Viik:_ A logical action towards her recovery, Commander. She would have refused otherwise. On record, one thousand and fifty-two sought counseling post SIMULATION. Off record, the correct amount is one thousand three hundred and four – the added two hundred and fifty two being telepathically enabled species … I am here to offer the same services.
> 
>  
> 
> _Commander Spock:_ I do not require them.
> 
>  
> 
> _Counselor Viik:_ Captain Kirk is your bondmate.
> 
>  
> 
> _Commander Spock:_ There is no bond to speak of.
> 
>  
> 
> _Counselor Viik:_ Do not deny it.
> 
>  
> 
> _Commander Spock:_ Counselor, I do not feel anything. As Vulcan, it is a sentiment we both share.
> 
>  
> 
> _Counselor Viik:_ … With your permission, I can transfer to the Enterprise to aid you in whichever way you require. Five years is of little consequence compared to the duration of your life.
> 
>  
> 
> _Commander Spock:_ He will not permanently reside in Terra or any planet after _one_ mission. This mission is not and never will be enough for him. It may be tomorrow, it may be six days, it may be a year or six years from now – in the end - He will most certainly endeavor to breach this contract. I cannot risk his captaincy.
> 
>  
> 
> _Counselor Viik:_ Do not lie to me, Spock. This is not about Captain Kirk or his captaincy, but your inability to be around his vicinity within these limitations. You are of more risk than him.
> 
>  
> 
> _Commander Spock:_ …
> 
>  
> 
> _Counselor Viik:_ You fear that he might move on if he decides to abide by the contract. He is human, Spock – any possibility of that occurring is too high for you to consider. You have already decided that you cannot witness -
> 
>  
> 
> _Commander Spock:_ Just because you have observed my program, does not give you the right to confidently assume my intentions nor question my actions.
> 
>  
> 
> _Counselor Viik:_ I am not here to insult you. I am here to aid you. As Vulcan, you must acknowledge that to ignore your connection would be the epitome of illogical.
> 
>  
> 
> _Commander Spock:_ I do not feel this connection that you claim to be resonating within _me_. I will not become a victim to your taunts that are meant to accustom to my human side. What you are asking of me is –
> 
>  
> 
> _Counselor Viik:_ Think of your Captain, Spock. You stated that you would never leave him. Do you deem yourself a liar? This is not an attempt to pander to your human half. You are Vulcan, and although a few may question it if able, I believe you have remained as such throughout the SIMULATION. To abandon him would be your most human action yet, because Vulcans never abandon their _T'hy’la._
> 
>  
> 
> _Commander Spock:_ … Have I completed the interview as required?
> 
>  
> 
> _Counselor Viik:_ Yes.
> 
>  
> 
> _Commander Spock:_ Then I will take my leave.
> 
>  
> 
> _Counselor Viik:_ What will you tell him? Your Captain.
> 
>  
> 
> _Commander Spock:_ Whatever is necessary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~X


	33. POST SIM - PART SEVEN

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last interview chapter!
> 
> Song: What Would You Do by Bastille
> 
> Warning: Kirk’s mouth.
> 
>  
> 
> ~X

  **POST SIM - PART SEVEN **

 

  

> _Interviewer #2: _ Tarsus IV.
> 
>  
> 
> _Captain Kirk:  _Nope.
> 
>  
> 
> _Interviewer #2: _ Did that incident have any influence on your final decision during Round Five?
> 
>  
> 
> _Captain Kirk:  _Just in case you can’t tell - I’m using my third waiver.
> 
>  
> 
> _Interviewer #2: _ You only had two. You used your second one when discussing the Commander’s decision to join you in the end of Round Five. Even if you were allowed a third waiver Captain, those are for individual questions – not topics.
> 
>  
> 
> _Captain Kirk:  _How do you spell no again? I think it starts with an ‘N’ – what comes after, Lieutenant?
> 
>  
> 
> _Interviewer #2: _ Captain …
> 
>  
> 
> _Captain Kirk:  _I’m only going to say this. … Yes, I was stuck on a dying planet – probably why my SIM came to be a _dying_ planet. I did this before so it sucked to do it again, okay? I’m sure any sentient being can understand that.
> 
>  
> 
> _Interviewer #2: _ …
> 
>  
> 
> _Captain Kirk:  _Instead, you guys simulate some evil rainbow to replace the fungi that ultimately fucked us all. Just like how the government turned on us, the people in the SIM turned on us. _The Federation_ turned on us. So yes, I survived the hell out of it because that’s what I do. Clearly, I’m good at it!
> 
>  
> 
> _Interviewer #2: _ Captain -
> 
>  
> 
> _Captain Kirk:  _I thought help would arrive … eventually. Maybe a Federation planet would sweep us away or something. Probably Tellar Prime - Andoria - Orion - Inferna Prime - Vulcan, just someone!
> 
> God knows Earth jumps at every opportunity. But hey - I'm over my past. I get it if Starfleet had trouble saving me on Tarsus - there weren’t that many of us to save anyways.
> 
> Despite my beliefs, I thought help would come in the SIM because … C’mon – it was billions of lives this time and not just some colony planet, but Earth! Planet fucking Earth!
> 
> Distress signals were blasted light-years high – And I just kept thinking that there was at least one Federation planet – a ship or two from another Starbase that would arrive. Pirate ships would have been fine.
> 
> Turns out that wasn't happening.
> 
> Then when the population dwindled to what was probably less than what was on Tarsus, I realized that all my ‘surviving abilities’ were vain, so excuse me that after some time, I just didn’t see the damn point anymore.
> 
> I did whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted. It’s not a crime to get some comfortable memory foam and eat imported chocolate. No one was sure as hell eating them!
> 
>  
> 
> _Interviewer #2: _ I see …
> 
>  
> 
> _Captain Kirk:  _No, you don’t - otherwise you wouldn’t have made things worse the one time I felt like everything would be okay. Did you all deliberately wait to make shit fall down the mountain after we were in peace?!
> 
> When those things … when these disgusting things came down, killing us all, you thought I would actually do it all over again? Especially after everything I’ve already lost!?!
> 
>  
> 
> _Interviewer #2: _ You didn’t believe in a rescue.
> 
>  
> 
> _Captain Kirk:  _What's there to rescue?! Earth didn’t belong to us anymore!
> 
>  
> 
> _Interviewer #2: _ You’re becoming angry, Captain.
> 
>  
> 
> _Captain Kirk:  _Damn right I am! What is this shit anyways?!
> 
>  
> 
> _Interviewer #2: _ I believe we need to take a break…
> 
>  
> 
> _Captain Kirk:  _Then put this in your stupid record while you’re at it.
> 
> I did my job. I saved as many as I could and risked my life for it.
> 
> I’m not suicidal.
> 
> I’m not insane.
> 
> I’m just a man who found a happy way out of a no-win scenario. Something you have all been trying to embed in me for years! There was _literally_ nothing to live for. If Spock could understand that, then you can, and fuck you all if you can’t.
> 
>  
> 
> _Interviewer #2: _ Cap –
> 
>  
> 
> _Captain Kirk:  _Is there anyone behind that mirror?
> 
>  
> 
> _Interviewer #2: _ I can’t say –
> 
>  
> 
> _Captain Kirk:  _You! I know you see me either behind that mirror or through that annoying ass buzzing compartment you had me watch for the last couple of hours. This planet wouldn’t fucking be here if it weren’t for me, and this is the shit I have to deal with? Is Spock going through this as we speak, because I swear to God -
> 
>  
> 
> _Interviewer #2: _ You need to calm down Cap –
> 
>  
> 
> _Captain Kirk:  _I can’t believe I sat on my ass while this was going on, thinking it would be fine and taking reports like a good captain, all while waiting for my next mission. This is inhumane. People died – I died – AGAIN!
> 
>  
> 
> _Interviewer #2: _ You ended the program – not your life.
> 
>  
> 
> _Captain Kirk:  _Then by all means, go stuff your system with enough drugs to shut down your heart.
> 
>  
> 
> _Interviewer #2: _ I didn’t mean it like that -
> 
>  
> 
> _Captain Kirk:  _And forget about the fact that when I _finally_ gain his trust, his friendship, I'm stuck in a situation where I don't even know how we’ll look at each other again! Is that the purpose of the SIM – ruining command teams? Do you have any idea what we _did_?
> 
>  
> 
> _Interviewer #2: _ Censor mode was enabled …
> 
>  
> 
> _Captain Kirk:  _And how many times?!
> 
>  
> 
> _Interviewer #2: _ It's somewhere in here ...
> 
>  
> 
> _Captain Kirk: _ You have to look for it because you can't count it on one hand.  Now - why, why was it enabled?
> 
>  
> 
> _Interviewer #2: _ Because … well –
> 
>  
> 
> _Captain Kirk:  _Say it.
> 
>  
> 
> _Interviewer #2: _ … uhhh
> 
>  
> 
> _Captain Kirk:  _Because we _fucked!_ We fucking fucked!
> 
>  
> 
> _Interviewer #2: _ It happens –
> 
>  
> 
> _Captain Kirk:  _It happens? It happens?! He’s my FIRST OFFICER! A _Vulcan_ officer who probably wants nothing to do with me because he had sex in front of everybody!
> 
>  
> 
> _Interviewer #2: _ We didn’t see –
> 
>  
> 
> _Captain Kirk:  _It’s the intent! The fucking intent! Not only that - You made a Vulcan kill animals, kill people and then kill _himself!_ Can any of you fathom how deeply wrong that is?
> 
>  
> 
> _Interviewer #2: _ Uhh … ?
> 
>  
> 
> _Captain Kirk:  _I mentally prepared myself for this. I reassured him that everything would be fine. I requested further information regarding his telepathy and how it would affect him and the program. Little did I know that you would strip him of it completely!
> 
>  
> 
> _Interviewer #2: _ He was not the only one –
> 
>  
> 
> _Captain Kirk:  _The reports I read must have been bullshit. I know for a fact that what everyone went though back then was buried so down deep, there’s probably a city above it now. Congratulations on another conspiracy! At this point, you guys might get enough to start using scientific notations!
> 
> ... Don’t – don’t look at me like that. Just because I want to throw this chair doesn’t mean I will, Lieutenant. I got tortured to defend people that weren’t even real. I’m not going to hurt _you_. If anything, you guys are the ones that hurt me!
> 
>  
> 
> _Interviewer #2: _ …
> 
>  
> 
> _Captain Kirk:  _Forget the waivers because you aren’t getting anything out of me anymore. This interview is done. So, so done.
> 
>  
> 
> _Interviewer #2: _ There’s still more to go –
> 
>  
> 
> _Captain Kirk:  _Do all of you hear me?! That insulting piece of paper is signed – I got my PASS - Spock PASSES - now you can all royally fuck off!
> 
>  
> 
> _Interviewer #2: _ Where are you -? Captain – Captain Kirk!
> 
>  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yea ... he's pissed.  
> ~X


	34. SIM – PART TWENTY-THREE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I apologize in advance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LAST SIM CHAPTER!
> 
> Two Songs: Dead In The Water by Ellie Goulding / For You Only by Trading Yesterday
> 
> A/N – I edited most of my first chapters. This is all beta-less, so I go back time-to-time. You could go back, but it’s not that big of a deal. 
> 
> Warning: … So much here. There’s a tag above ‘Fluff w/ a side of Agony’ – it’s because of this chapter. I will never post an update this big again. Ever. I fell really deep into this world.
> 
> My plan was to update earlier, however the horrible shooting at Pulse made me say ‘Nope.’ – I’m sure you’re all bombarded with conversations/debates regarding hate crimes, religion, extremism and whatnot. 
> 
> There’s so much of that below. TRIGGER warning for murder and suicide and smut – tags are above and have been there for months. I’ll also add that I rearranged some things in canon and replaced others with my headcanon for the benefit of this story.
> 
> I’m sending so much love,
> 
> ~XIIVA

  **SIM – PART TWENTY-THREE**

 

 

The next morning began with expected soreness along with a headache, and since Spock was holding his hand, he could only assume that the pain he was feeling was a fraction of what it actually was. This alone would spoil him.

They lay beside the other, staring at the ceiling and watched the red lights flicker above them. Lockdown was over.

"We're so dead."

"That outcome could occur in various ways." Spock answered, still staring at the ceiling as the lights dimmed. "To which are you referring?"

"Cardenas." He whispered like a dirty secret.

"Dr. Cardenas is the one who informed us that we could resume sexual activi – "

"More like _begin_." Jim interrupted with a snort.

Spock moved his fingers from Jim's knuckles to his wrists, massaging small circles into Jim's skin. "Our actions were permissible."

"She probably meant for us to be more gentle." The idea of being careful was eliminated the second Jim got Spock's shirt off, and now they had to pay the price. "We could just tell her we fell."

Which sounded absurd in his own head, except it was all he had to go on. He had to remember not to laugh at Karim or Steven's tactics today, otherwise he would clutch at his waist, all unavoidable by Dr. Cardenas' keen eye.

"Or we could stay here for the remainder of the day."

He prevented a dry swallow and inhaled instead. "A sleep-in day?" The suggestion sounded wickedly dirty in Jim's ears, especially now that he knew what Spock's mouth was capable of.

"Correct"

Jim turned to Spock, squinting his eyes. Apparently, Spock's eyelids were already drooped down. "You're just exhausted."

"I admit to be more fatigued than my norm." Spock confessed. "And I would like to refrain from walking more than necessary today."

"Shit." Jim let go of Spock's hand and pressed his weight on his elbow to rise up. He moved the sheet to glide it across Spock's thigh, exposing the limb. The improvements were noticeable with each day. In the end, Spock needed more time.

"It is of little concern, Jim."

Jim ignored Spock's words and sprung up the bed. He walked around the bed to Spock's small cabinet on the other side. No matter the temperature inside the room, the floor against his bare feet always gave him a little shiver. He bent down to retrieve the cream next to their other products.

Just like before when he would redress Spock's bandage, he placed himself between Spock's legs after moving one thigh away. He gestured for Spock to move back in sitting position. Spock obliged with slightly parted lips, eyes fixated on watching Jim massage the cream between Jim's fingers.

The coconut aroma floated in the room, so Jim concentrated on that instead of the soreness on his backside. It was expected, and he was handling it. Plus it was worth it to hear those hitched and low moans, all while feeling Spock move deeper with such –

"Jim – "

"I did it again." Jim smiled wide as he placed his cream coated hands on Spock's skin, moving the grey robe further up, and pressed down to begin relaxing the muscles underneath.

Spock's tipped his head back with closed eyes, his chest rising slowly from his deep inhale.

Jim glided his hands above the scarred tissue and back around. The minutes passed by as he continued, trying to be as gentle and efficient as he could be. Spock remained silent, only his breathing being a signal to Jim if he was doing it better.

He took note that the blade cuts were too high up. Frankly, he was surprised Gigi hadn't shred Spock's groin with it. His hate for them was growing more and more, even with their death.

"Your explicit thoughts were more enjoyable, Jim."

"Maybe I should just wear gloves from now on." Jim joked as he retracted his hands. He didn't get very far. Spock caught his wrist and moved forward while pulling Jim closer, eliminating the space between them.

Spock grasped Jim's chin, and he found himself gulping from the closeness he should have been used to by now. Spock's eyes were seeing him inside and out. He would give his soul to Spock to be able to do the same. To have the same ability.

"Do not ever deprive me of your touch," said Spock as he brushed Jim's skin from the bottom of his jaw, to the tip of his shoulder. "To do so would be the death of me."

Their intimate proximity was intoxicating. Because of it, his urges were renewed. It probably would continue to be - now that he experienced its extremity. "That's a bit on the dramatic side." Jim forced a low laugh, trying to relocate his equilibrium.

Spock's lips floated above his, their noses brushing together on its sides. Suddenly, Jim's chin was let go, but his waist was captured in its stead. The position would have been better if he was sitting on Spock's lap, except he refrained because he couldn't add more unnecessary pain to Spock.

"It is the truth."

Jim didn't give Spock the opportunity to continue. He bent down to press a kiss, and he fully realized the seriousness in those words. Truthfully, it … it scared him.

That was it. He was scared. With ease, he could risk his life for someone, but never in his life did he think someone would even attempt the same for him. He should not have been touched by Spock's promise. It was another example of his fundamentals fading. Here he was, relying on another again.

Spock made it clear that there would be mourning should Jim leave this world.

All of those were the last he wanted _anybody_ to do.

But his soul clung to it, stuck in its gravitational pull.

Jim grabbed a fistful of Spock's robe while biting Spock's puckered lower lip with a deep moan. Spock's warm hand retreated from Jim's shoulders and found solace under the wreath of the robe, sending a shudder through Jim's body. There was nothing to hide his growing organ under the thin material.

He separated their wet lips, which resulted in Spock leaning forward to chase after him. Jim smiled wryly at the abandoned mouth. "I swear if your leg was up for the task, …" He whispered as he moved his mouth near Spock's nape, resting it just over the flushed skin. " … I would ride you until you were breathless."

Something electrifying surged within him, and he knew it came from Spock by the way his robe was being stripped off completely. Making a conscious decision to deny his rationale, he inched back to do exactly the same, and soon their robes were tossed to the side of the bed.

"This is bad." Jim groaned as Spock started to bite and lick at his collarbone again. Nonetheless, the hunger between them showed no sign of dissipating. "So, so … bad."

"We will consider the consequences in the aftermath." Spock was moving Jim's thigh over his as an inaudible message, declaring that this was all Jim's fault to begin with.

"You mean we will _suffer_ the consequences." Jim managed a laugh as he settled on Spock's lap.

Spock picked up the cream already on the mattress, and squeezed a portion into his hand right before grasping Jim's hips to move them closer.

They hadn't even begun, and Jim already had a string of curses and obscene requests taking reign in his mind. He was a whole head taller than Spock in this position. He should have looked down, for the sudden wave of pleasure took over without warning.

He held onto Spock's shoulders, neck and sometimes took to abusing Spock's hair to keep his balance from the fervent sensations of their half-hardened groins rubbing together by Spock's tight fist.

Unlike last night when he kept demanding, _'Harder'_ and _'Faster'_ , he never had a need for it now, almost breathless by the motions of Spock's skilled hands. It wasn't long until he rolled his hips into it by instinct, losing himself in this.

Both of them heard the shuffling taking place right outside their door, which reminded Jim to cover his mouth. He had no idea how thin the walls were.

Spock must have sensed Jim's alarm since he paused in his motions.

"Damn it." Jim hissed. He didn't want to stop. Not. At. All.

Before Jim could utter a word, Spock made the decision for them by resuming his strokes. Spock decided against any mercy, increasing them ten-folds with added pressure while resting his open mouth under Jim's jaw. He felt Spock's grin against his skin, but was unable to see it.

He gripped hard while Spock made him bend to his whim. There was no doubt that this dominating nature of Spock would continue to surprise him for as long as he breathed. If anyone heard him scream soon after … well, they shouldn't have been so damn close to their door.

**.**

**.**

**.**

Jim loved sleep-in days when he had them before the invasion. It was a weird thing overall. Sleep-in days didn't happen when one was seeking shelter. After his first place prior to being sucked into Camp Salvatus, he was paranoid of the lights coming through, despite the fact that they were showing signs of slowing down after the third attack.

He couldn't deny to himself that when he got to the Camp, he had a decent sleep in the first month, but always kept to himself. Of course shit hit the fan when the leader started spitting insanity. It was nothing he could ignore any longer, causing him another set of sleepless nights.

It was one thing to discover that the people around him had no qualms about the others outside that committed senseless murder. He planned to leave for many nights – ultimately deciding that it was better to be alone and paranoid. It was another thing altogether when he saw them treat Urain like that in front of him.

They _judged_ her.

Sleep didn't occur in his second and final apartment. The mattress was a great one, however it still didn't help the fact that he slept with one eye open.

Now he was thinking of what possible dinner he could dial up for him and his boyfriend … lover … partner?

Sleep-in days and love … what was the world coming to? He would have laighed if someone told him any of this was still possible.

"Jim?"

Jim turned to his left to see Markus cruising with him down the corridor.

"Where's Chief? He hasn't come out all day."

Knocked out.

"Sleeping." Jim answered. "Is he my limb? Always with me or something?"

"Yeah?" Markus said as if there wasn't another answer, and that Jim was dumb for even asking.

Jim let out a snort. "What do you want?"

"How's he doing?"

"He's keeping it together." Jim sighed. "Don't expect him to bounce back as if what we did wasn't horrible."

"He barely talks to us, Jim."

That was news. "Us?"

"All of us." Markus clarified. "I don't know if he cuts Ana some slack because of some Starfleet brotherhood, or because she got shot, but that's pretty much it."

"I saw him talk to Terrence yesterday. I haven't seen him act differently with any of us."

"It's different with Terrence." Markus grumbled as if jealous.

Jim raised a brow in the exact same way Spock did. "Excuse me?"

"I mean … Jim, he still talks to us … but something's changed." Markus added with palms open for elaboration. "It's like he went full Vulcan."

"News flash, Markus – " Jim shook his head at him. "Spock _is_ Vulcan."

They both stopped talking when Lexa passed them with a nod. It made them both aware to keep their voices down.

"He stopped that robotic nonsense. You don't get it, man. You didn't see him transform like we did. Do you have any idea how shocked we were when he high-fived Karim?"

Now that would be a sight to see. "I never saw that."

"Well, he did! He says he has his defenses up. I don't know much about aliens, but I think it's more than that. Ana thinks so too, and I trust her because she worked beside them. Vulcans don't just hug people! We were already worried before man, but we're more worried now because of that disastrous mission."

"Markus." Jim stopped him, not wanting to be in a situation where he would have to explain Spock's mental state. That was not his job. Spock would be the one to tell them what he was comfortable with.

"He's treated you differently since the moment you arrived. It's like he was already comfortable with you or something." Markus leaned closer to his ear. "Just talk to him. It took too fucking long to be this close for him to just shut down on us like that."

If anything, Spock was becoming more affectionate instead of being closed in. Whatever was going on with Spock, he was taking it out on everyone else but him… and apparently _Terrence_. He didn't know how to feel about that. He didn't know how to feel about _all_ of that.

Markus continued, oblivious to Jim's internal blabbering monologue. "I'm still surprised that he went along with the wedding cake. Katherine and Karim are something."

Jim nudged him with his elbow, his small revenge towards the soldier. He still loved the gesture. He just wished he knew about it beforehand, so he didn't have to cower behind Spock's back like the stunned child he was.

"You all deserve a kick for that."

Markus rubbed his robust arm with an exaggerated hiss. "Spock looked fine. He wasn't traumatized by it."

 _"I'm_ traumatized by it."

"You're fine." Markus scoffed. "But seriously, if he knew you were in on what happened back there, with that band of crazy fuckers, then you would get what I mean."

"Markus …"

"I won't tell him a thing. Don't worry." Markus quickly said, easing Jim's building worries. "Are you ever going to bring it up though?"

Jim contemplated on that. "One day …"

Markus tightened his lips, his disappointment evident. "Right … Well, I'll see you later then."

Jim watched Markus' retreating back with a frown.

**.**

**.**

**.**

Jim returned back into the room and chewed on a tomato slice, not batting an eye away from Spock. It was odd.

Spock's behavior towards him wasn't anything like Markus told him. It made him wonder.

Did Spock just not trust him with his thoughts, or maybe Spock didn't mention it because he thought he wouldn't have been able to handle it … Oh, fuck it.

He was council.

"Spock."

"I was beginning to wonder if you lost your capability to speak." Spock answered immediately, staring back at him with his scanning eyes. "You were certainly vocal beforehand."

That earned a harsh pat on Spock's good thigh. He took another bite with a tsk.

He told Spock that his joke wasn't funny, and he made sure to say it with a full mouth to irritate Spock as much as he could.

"You have a query in mind." Spock concluded despite the foolery.

"Yeah …" Jim confirmed, swallowing the contents in his mouth. "Are you okay? You haven't mentioned Karim's rescue since we woke up, except when you told me that Markus saved us."

Spock's softened expression hardened instantly. "It was a discussion I endeavored to avoid."

"That's uncharacteristic of you."

"It is not uncharacteristic for me to place your well-being first."

What? "My well-being?"

"Despite your obvious hatred, I assumed that you were grieving for some."

Jim was baffled. He felt like a shitty human being because of it. What part of him showed Spock that he was grieving exactly? "Uhhh…?"

"Humans all grieve differently, so I ultimately decided to avoid the topic in order to ease your mental strain."

Shit, now Jim was in a dilemma. If he said he was grieving, then Spock would feel worse than what he was already feeling. However, if he said that he wasn't – Spock would think him to be one cold son of a bitch.

Jim just settled with a lame "Oh."

"Do you wish to discuss it now? I have heard that talking can be somewhat therapeutic."

"That doesn't apply to everyone." Jim shifted in his seat because his legs were starting to get numb. "You haven't talked to me about it."

"Kaiidth." Spock sighed. "What is, is. It cannot be altered for it has already taken place."

"I know. This is about what you feel, Spock." Jim urged. "Is it true that you've closed off everyone else but me?"

"Define 'closed off' because I have conversed with Terrence and Anastasia briefly yesterday."

"You have become … uh, how do I say this?" Jim stumbled in his words. "They said you became more formal?"

"I have simply returned to my previous methods of conversation from when we first met, because I have discovered the faults within a few casual relationships."

"Which is …?"

"One lacks authority when they become a _friend."_ Spock put down his fork. "They lack it enough to disregard orders and execute mass murder – "

"Spock."

"This is not a ship. There is no Starfleet. I am not acknowledged by my rank as _Commander,_ neither do I desire to be." Spock looked down. "However, I cannot report them, have them transferred - only reprimand them … and although my position is not an official one, I was entrusted with leadership. It is my responsibility to make sure another similar situation does not occur ever again."

"And you'll do that by shutting them off?" Jim questioned. "They're your friends - your council."

"I do not see another option."

"There is, and it's called talking it out." Jim put his spoon down a while ago, and blew out a gust of air.

"No matter what they say, I cannot be confident in their words." Spock added. "You were unconscious. You did not hear them. They were adamant, and did not hesitate. They operated with fear, absent of logic. I am not ignorant to the fact that their final actions would have occurred on my order if the situation accelerated for the worst, but the point remains. That. Was. Not. Their. Call."

Jim breathed in. His mind was sprinting in circles at the thought of what he asked of Markus. He wanted to reach out and hold Spock in his arms, but decided against it.

Apparently, Terrence and Steven suggested it as well even though Jim mentioned in the beginning without earpieces. It made him wonder if it would have happened regardless of his interference. It was part of the plan should things have failed, except it didn't help with the fact that he did help in the creation of this wedge between Spock's friends.

"Spock … we all have the same intention at heart." Jim carefully said. "We're not evil, and their reasons were legitimate. You are a kind and selfless gift to this planet, so I understand your regret. I really, really do because I feel it too. All I ask is that you don't blame yourself or fracture the dynamic of this base."

That was the last thing they all needed now.

"They were scared. We were all scared, and we had the right to be. It's not fair to say that they were absent of logic." Jim tried to look in Spock's eyes. "Look what happened to us?"

A snarl started to form on Spock's face at the mention of their torture.

"That wasn't some measly revenge, Spock. They were enjoying it and talked about how they burned your people as if it was some joke!"

"It is improbable that every individual carried identical characteristics."

Jim would have already given Spock a glimpse of what it was really like to live there, except there was no way he was ever going to plant Spock's mind in a room of people that breathed hate. It would be a better tactic to prove his point, but the idea was unkind. "I spent enough days there, and I'm telling you that they all did. I told them to beware of false prophets in sheep's clothing, because inwardly, they are ferocious wolves. Do you know what that means?"

"It is a biblical idiom." Spock nodded with understanding. "A man's perceived character is nothing compared to the one underneath. A man's true heinous nature."

"Spock, how could you have expected them to follow basic logic if they didn't follow their own teachings? They mutated it for their favor." Jim's words never went through to them. They were all gone, sinking in the ocean of the leader's ego.

"Here's another part of Mankind I'm sure you're familiar with by now. This isn't some old pre-warp history that's not capable of resurfacing."

And so Jim stated the formula, step by step. "Say I'm person of authority, claiming that I'm a God-like being – someone that isn't the same as you and could never be. Sometimes, I'm perceived so mighty, some might say I don't need sustenance to survive. I am better and smarter. Now … let me lead a group. The group's respect eventually becomes worship. With everyone's ears open and their heads around my fingers, I tell my group of another group.

I say that this second group isn't worthy. That they don't deserve life, unlike you, because you're better, you're with me, but not like how I'm better though. Never. My people are hesitant at first, so it's my job to reassure them that their worries are misplaced. I tell them that this other group's death is not actually murder. No, it's for the better of our home, our nation, our people, our world and for God."

"Jim – "

"I don't want you to be disgusted with council or with yourself. The reality is that they would have come here, Spock. They wouldn't have shown mercy. We're just a bunch of sympathizers that were harboring an alien. There was fifty when I left, then that man told us some died. Why did he have double the people?"

It was because those kinds of people were everywhere. It was like a plague – just multiplying over and over with increased amounts after each round.

Spock's brows furrowed, finally meeting Jim's with a darkened stare. "You must have seen one individual that did not agree with their teachings."

"I did." Jim did a lazy shrug. "And they burned her for it. That just shows you how this was never going to be a problem we got rid of over peaceful solutions. What we did wasn't fun, or revenge. I know you're comparing us to them, but it's not the same. It was _defense_."

Jim saw Spock's screwed face, and immediately hated his bluntness. He hated it, but it had to be done. They both loved Karim too much. They loved the base too much to risk a single person.

"Surely there was someone." It was something that Spock was very adamant about.

Jim understood where that came from. In Spock's point of view, if Jim was a part of them, then there was obviously another. Someone must have stayed there just for the food and bed.

It was sad that Spock was wrong when Spock would have been right if they still lived in a world of reason. "If there was, then they should have left."

Spock squinted his eyes as if Jim should know better. "That is not a simple task."

Jim heard the silent _'… And you know it.'_

"Why not?" Jim's lips were set in a grim line. "I did it."

Spock dropped his gaze, placing his hand on Jim's wrist. Jim had to conceal the recycled images of Urain's last struggle. He had no idea if it was working.

"Not everyone is as brave as you – "

"When things turn for the worst, we don't get that choice. They came for us, not the other way around. Regardless, we don't have the luxury to wallow in regret." Jim declared with sadness. Time was never guaranteed for them. "It's against your nature, I get that. Shit, it's against mine too, but don't feel sad about those that made you hide who you are. Then that means they won."

**.**

**.**

**.**

Something tickled Jim's skin as he woke up. He fluttered his lashes before rubbing his eyes to get a better view. He was met with darkness above him. It was also too cold for him to be in Spock's room. There was never total darkness in their room, the lights dancing as they reflected on every corner.

A breeze danced around him, causing him to jerk up from the floor, sitting on foreign ground. He was fully charged with fear. He was in the night with nothing to give him shelter. The lights weren't here, however he didn't trust it. They would soon arrive.

He gazed down and saw the grass between his fingers, and he instantly looked at his surroundings. This wasn't the forest near the base nor were there any buildings he recognized.

He could see sand in the far, far corners with buildings that had so many shapes; Jim wondered how they were being supported. It was not the sand composed of white ash that coated the Earth, but of orange with bright swirls of red that was too pure to be here. The flowers on his right were bright. He swore some of them moved with him like high quality motion sensors.

Jim wondered where here was. This was wrong.

 _"Hello?"_ He called to the empty space.

_"Identify yourself."_

Okay … maybe the place wasn't so empty.

With a quick turn of the heel, Jim saw a kid that was as tall as his hip, covered in black. Half of the boy's chin was covered under the high turtleneck as he glared at Jim, those developing cheekbones brightened by little light bugs. Jim then noticed the house with a diagonal roof and one window behind the kid.

What the fuck was going on?

 _"Uhhh…"_ Jim scratched the back of his neck. He was stuck in Spock's dream, and this intimidating kid was none other than Spock himself. It was a huge leap in logic, but they already had this experience before. _"I'm Jim."_

_"Is Jim your surname or first name?"_

_"First name…"_

_"I require your full name … Jim."_

Something told him to take the question seriously. _"… James Tiberius Kirk?"_

_"Son of…?"_

_"… That's the Kirk portion."_

Spock stared at him skeptically. _"You are trespassing, James Tiberius Kirk."_

_"I am?"_

_"And you are human."_ Spock circled around him with an inspecting glare. _"A human without obligatory Starfleet attire."_

 _"Uh, yeah? It's after hours, so I don't wear them."_ Jim coughed up the lie in a second. _"I actually got lost."_

 _"You are too far out from the Starfleet base."_ Spock continued to look at him with a raised brow. _"You do not appear inebriated…"_

 _"No, no – "_ Jim put his hands up. He was intimidated by a little kid with a bowl cut. _"Sleep walking."_

_"To walk whilst unconscious?"_

_"Yes."_

_"My mother has never experienced the phenomena. Is this common amongst humans?"_

_"No … at least I think not."_

_"Inconclusive then?"_

Jim swallowed. _"Yep."_

 _"You are not armed and you appear genuinely confused, Mr. Kirk."_ Spock stepped back. _"I will bring you to my mother."_

Jim's heart shouldn't have skipped a beat. _"Where's your dad?"_

_"He is currently located on Terra."_

_"Why?"_

_"I would inform you of his occupation, but since you are a stranger, I cannot perceive your possible actions towards me."_

High position then … _"I won't hurt you."_

Spock looked at him from top to bottom, a little smug grin dangling from his lips. _"You could not."_

Jim didn't know what to do or say. A part of him really wanted to meet the parents, and he just found out that it was the mother that was human. Although this was a dream, Jim was keen on discovering as much as he could.

For one, Vulcan was too freakin' beautiful.

_"What are you thinking?"_

_"What?"_

_"You stared at an empty space of grass for fifteen point six seconds. I have discovered that when my mother stares for a prolonged period of time, it is because she is thinking of something troubling."_

_"And your mom is your reference for all things human …"_

The little Vulcan didn't detect the sarcasm. _"For now, yes."_

_"You're a human too, you know."_

_"Half – human."_ Spock's posture straightened up _. "I was born on Vulcan. I choose to live the Vulcan way. I am Vulcan."_

Jim shot his hands up higher _. "Alright … sheesh."_

_"Spock!"_

A higher pitched voice called to the kid, causing both of them to finch at the unexpected sound.

_"It's too late to be out here, Spock!"_

_"I guess we should get going then."_ Jim said, anticipating the hell out of this meeting.

_"That would be the logical course of action."_

Jim followed the kid further down, and the flowers snatched back as he walked passed them. Some looked like roses while others were of venous fly traps. Obviously not exactly, heck they probably had names he couldn't pronounce. Everything was vined together in the bushes as they strolled down into a section with shorter, cleaner cut grass with two marble benches on the side.

_"Spock!"_

A woman in light beige clothes ran to them, her sheer shall following the waves in the air before she leaned down before Spock, cradling Spock's face between her palms. Her skirt was long and wide, forming a circle on the grass. Her outfit and demeanor were close to that of Savitra's.

 _"You can't run off at night like that."_ She frowned at him with light reprimand.

Spock leaned into the touch. _"I apologize, mother."_

Jim stared at her, noticing that her cheeks picked up a pink hue. She was slightly tanned as well. She seemed to be in her thirties, and Jim saw so much beauty … he wanted to know more.

He was meeting the parents – he wanted to gleam, but he kept his cool. This was only the woman who saw Spock's first steps after all. Not a big deal.

 _"Hello, ma'am."_ Jim put out his hand with a smile. _"It's a pleasure to meet you."_

 _"Why would you go off running like that?"_ The woman flattened Spock's hair. _"I told you that it only makes me worried."_

Spock quirked a brow, noticing her blatant obliviousness to Jim's presence. _"Mother?"_

 _"Let's go back inside."_ She kissed his hair. _"I made all your favorites."_

Jim wanted to let out a string of curses. She didn't see him.

 _"Mother, would it be amenable to remain here for five more minutes?"_ Spock innocently asked. _"I will not venture far and will be punctual."_

She tilted her head in question. _"Why?"_

_"I wish to be alone with my thoughts."_

Her shoulders dropped at that. _"Is this about what happened today, Spock?"_

Jim let his hands fall, frowning at Spock's sudden slouched posture. All that confident whisked away too fast for Jim's liking. He was curious.

 _"I cannot alter what has taken place. I refuse to dwell in it."_ Spock responded.

 _"You know where I'll be."_ She settled with a simple word of caution. _"Don't go off too far again."_

Jim could tell that she wanted to say more, but she stopped herself.

Spock nodded, and they both watched her go back in the house.

 _"That was interesting …"_ Jim blurted out as he watched Spock walk to one of the benches once the coast was clear.

 _"I have two options."_ Spock stared at his hands on his lap. _"Either you are a humanoid alien that can choose to whom you are visible to, or you are a figment of my imagination."_

He didn't have many options here. _"I would choose the latter."_

_"Why would I conjure a human?"_

_"You didn't have to say it like that."_

_"Like what?"_

_"You know what you did."_ Jim huffed with a laugh. _"Maybe I'm here to help you with what happened today. Maybe from a human standpoint?"_

_"My mother has already done so."_

_"Then maybe I'm your subconscious, wanting to tell you of 'your' human standpoint…?"_ It sounded ridiculously stupid in his head. Jim just hoped Spock wouldn't run away, screaming to the sky in panic.

Surprisingly, Spock turned away dismissively as if he couldn't entertain this brain-cell killing conversation anymore and began his walk. _"It is settled."_

_"Is it?"_

_"I still find it deeply troubling however, there is nothing that can be done."_

Jim uttered the word his Spock told him. _"Kaiidth."_

It was cute to see Spock do a double take with brightened green cheeks. _"Precisely."_

_"But I can try to help you, so whatever happened doesn't happen again."_

_"I vowed that it would never occur again …"_

_"I won't tell anyone."_ Jim put his index finger over his lips. _"I promise."_

_"Perhaps my food was poisoned. I feel compelled to express illogical thoughts to a hallucination. I should inform mother, but I fear to have already worried her."_

_"You could have worse hallucinations."_

_"Fine."_ Spock pouted in such a cute manner; Jim wanted to pinch his cheeks. Half of Spock's face ducked into his shirt. That was definitely a slouch. _"During my studies, I was approached by three individuals of the same year."_

Sounded more like an ambush. _"I have a feeling I'm not going to like this."_

_"They insulted me. They questioned if I was a real Vulcan."_

_"That doesn't sound logical."_

_"It was not. The whole altercation was hypocritical, especially when they insulted my mother for being human as if she could simply alter the fact."_

_"Put a fist in their faces."_ Jim blurted out before he could stop himself. He covered his mouth with his palm, muttering apologies to Spock. He was mostly thankful for not cursing, thus scarring those supposed virgin ears.

Spock just blinked at Jim with wide eyes. _"Is that what you would have done?"_

_"… You really want to know?"_

_"Yes."_

_"Then yes, because it would show them that they can't do it again."_ Jim squared his shoulders. _"You assert your power."_

_"So you would approve if I stated that I initiated a physical assault, injuring one of them?"_

_"I'm guessing everyone around you doesn't approve."_

_"I should have had more control with my emotions."_

_"That doesn't give anyone the right to think it's okay to step on you."_ Jim pointed to Spock's chest, careful to not actually touch him. _"Granted, a fist in the face isn't always the way to go, but never make them think that they have the upper hand. No one can do that to you."_

_"They will use my response to feed their future insults."_

_"Like you said, you can't change it. It's done."_ Jim shrugged. _"If it were me, I would own it. Let them know that there are consequences for their hateful words."_

Spock contemplated on that for a moment, following a firefly with his pupils. _"The goal was to make them fully aware that they could never iterate those illogical beliefs in my presence again."_

Illogical words called for illogical behavior.

If he didn't know what he knew about Vulcans, then he would have fist pumped the little Spock. _"Sounds like you succeeded."_

**.**

**.**

**.**

Jim cracked open his eyes, automatically feeling the bed sheets brushing along his body and fingers. Everything was absent of the tickling touches of the grass. He moved his toes inwards before he sat up. Spock was already awake, gazing at him as if it was the first time. Jim switched his direction of sight and noticed Spock's trembling fingers.

The emotions running through him didn't correlate with the memory at all. It was a simple one, but Spock's clenched jaw and frown made him think that Spock would have run out the door if he could. Jim realized that this was an accident.

"What was that, Spock?"

Spock swallowed. "A memory."

"That was your mother…"

"Indeed." Spock nodded, looking down on his lap. "I dream of her on occasion."

Jim backed up on the headboard, his shoulder brushing next to Spock's. "… you miss her." He sensed it.

"Her voice used to provide me with solace, however I no longer receive the same effect." Spock answered. "… I only experience this tightening sensation when I see her, and I cannot discern as to why."

"You saw her before the invasion right?" He hoped she wasn't on the planet. "Don't tell me she was here..."

"She remains on Vulcan with my father." Spock let out an exasperated sigh. "It is a complicated matter. Memories include emotions. It is not just the details I remember. It is more than the scenery, my garments and those of others. It is more than simple dialogue. I remember the emotions, and I have realized that a portion of my memories carry none of it."

"Like you're looking at a holo-screen." Jim added, confident that he was right. He felt the same way sometimes. There were gaps that were filled with something artificial, except he blamed that on his seizures.

"Precisely."

"What about the memory I just saw. I felt … I felt …" Jim choked on his words. The kid he spoke to kept his expression blank, but he felt something from the little Spock. There was emotion in that memory, and it meant that it was real.

"I was a child, Jim. My earlier memories are authentic." Spock turned around to face. "I have concluded that the memories within the last seven hundred and forty-two days prior to the invasion are worthy of speculation."

"That's over two years, Spock. What are you trying to say?"

"I am saying that I am confused." Spock's lower lip quivered. "It is impossible. They feel fabricated. Perhaps I lost this aspect of my eidetic memory with my abilities."

Maybe there was more damage than they originally thought. Regardless … "You can't have memories just feel _fake_."

"I am aware."

"Tell me of your last authentic one." Jim suggested, hoping it would ease Spock's mind at least a bit. "C'mon. The one that felt the most real, just like the one I was in. Talk about your most recent one in detail. What did you hear and feel?"

Maybe this might help a bit.

Spock paused for a moment, then looked down on his lap. "It was call. My mother did not wish to utilize her video comm, stating that she was too tired. I did not see her face, however I could imagine her expressions through her tone."

Jim could sometimes see his mom's face through her voice as well, so he understood completely.

"I called her because I was … irritated, an unexpected emotion that I could only admit to her. A cadet manipulated a battle simulation I implemented in the Academy. The call took place one hour before I was to enter a hearing, regarding future disciplinary actions towards this cadet."

That sounded like a stupid and yet gutsy move. "You wanted advice from her, I'm guessing."

"I wanted an opinion." Spock retorted.

"She's your mom. You call for advice, never for a simple opinion." Jim chuckled. "They always let you know what they think, trying to make you feel the same, all while skillfully persuading you to follow their advice by the time the conversation ends. See? Never a simple opinion."

"Perhaps …" The sheets wrinkled under Spock's palm. "She provided nothing of the kind in the end."

Jim's eyebrows shot up. The woman he saw didn't seem capable of just ignoring Spock. She loved him too much. "Nothing?"

A ghost of a smile showed on Spock's face. "She … she could not offer any advice because she could not speak. Her emotions were most illogical." Spock was staring ahead as if he was seeing it all again. "She was laughing."

Jim's jaw dropped. "At you?"

"She found my predicament … entertaining." Spock admitted with a hint of confusion as if he never found the answer as to why. "She praised the cadet for challenging me instead."

All the negative tension that was built between them from their last conversation vanished. It vanished because Jim imagined heightened laughs all while Spock grimaced on the other end of the call in uniform, and all right after ranting about the actions of this cadet.

His imagination caused him to have his own set of uncontrollable laughs in response. It shouldn't have been this funny.

Damn it, Jim was supposed to be supportive. He was most definitely not supposed to be was laughing instead. 'That was not nice,' should have been the next thing out of his mouth. Or more preferably, 'she should have listened' would have been a great alternative too …

Jim shut his mouth for a few seconds with the intention to just shut up. Except, it was after he looked up to Spock's twitching face that his guffaws forced its way out again with a snort. It was the way Spock bashfully turned away, blowing thick strands away from his face that did it for Jim.

"I'm sorry." It was the weakest attempt at an apology.

Spock crossed his arms, giving Jim a side-glance that called bullshit.

God, he really wanted to see this woman for real.

"That was the one."

His laughs died down as the comment processed in his head. Spock noticed his confusion instantly.

"That was the one." Spock reiterated in a softer tone.

Realization dawned on him. "Oh, Spock." He embraced Spock, acknowledging that his laughter was a replay of Spock's last truly authentic memory.

**.**

**.**

**.**

The moment lockdown was over; Jim sat across from Katherine while he drank his water – not bothering with breakfast today. He would have a bigger lunch later.

Spock disappeared with Terrence to do another search outside in the Security room.

Jim and Clayton were meant to check the vehicles outside the base today and keep maintenance, but the gatekeeper was nowhere to be seen.

"How's my Lightrunner doing?" Katherine looked up from her book and placed her chin on her palm. "You're spacing out a lot."

"Just thinking." He responded. It was then that he noticed the first line on the pages. "Are you reading _Shakespeare_?"

She glanced at him with a coy smile, then nodded. "It's not for the kids, but those teens might be interested. I know we have other things to worry about. I just don't see the harm, ya know?"

"Well, I'm interested." Jim smiled to her, placing his cup down. "C'mon, read something to me."

"Okay … I'll share a portion of my favorite part of ' _All's Well that Ends Well'_." She cleared her throat and picked up her book. _"'Share with thy birthright! Love all, trust a few, Do wrong to none: be able for thine enemy. Rather in power than use, and keep thy friend...'"_

She read the rest, and Jim could admit it was a beautiful piece. Jim wondered why her expression saddened when she said the last words.

"Shakespeare didn't live through an alien initiated apocalypse though." Katherine declared with a slouch, shutting her book hard. "Who knows what he'd say now."

"We'll never know." This world could easily change people.

**.**

**.**

**.**

Jim saw Dr. Cardenas and Clayton running around with a group of teenagers in the field.

He was about to yell at Clayton – they had a job to do after all. Apparently, before he let out a word, their attention was directed to him. That was because their attention was directed on the ball that smacked him right in the face. Dr. Cardenas ran up to him, patting his cheeks, checking his face all over with worried urgency. Jim rubbed his eyes, swearing that he saw stars.

Like a teenager himself, he felt slightly insecure from the laughs behind her. After Dr. Cardenas was satisfied, he pointed to the group with a tight expression.

"Which one of you ruined my perfect face?!"

Adriana, whom was already sitting on the grass, rolled on her back with laughs that were deeper than what her small body should have contained. Some of the kids pointed to the one who was hiding behind Clayton. Jim recognized the kid. It was a sixteen-year-old boy that was up to Clayton's shoulder and had shaved hair, extenuating his too sharp facial features.

Clayton rolled his eyes and moved aside, carelessly exposing the kid who took refuse behind him.

"Zack!" Jim pointed to the stunned kid as he marched. "I have to think of a punishment for you."

"What … kind of punishment ...?" Zack stuttered, looking around for some help before looking back at Jim with a tight smile, puffing his cheeks. "Did I mention I was sorry?"

Jim narrowed his eyes for a moment, and then strolled away. "I'm on the team that's against Zack!" He declared, causing a riot.

The kids that were supposedly on his team jumped him with cheers while the others dropped their jaws. Some even shook their heads at Zack, blaming the kid for their inevitable loss.

"We got the Lightrunner on our team!" Adriana stuck her tongue out at the other side. She was the youngest on the field, not meant to run around with older kids, except she had the spirit to make up for it. "Thank you, Zack!"

"Shut up, Adriana!" Zack jibed back with a frown before he retreated back to his team with a huff. Kumar was apparently on Zack's team too.

Dr. Cardenas laughed as she huddled with Jim and the other seven kids. "So we have a new addition on our team … Even though he should be in bed …"

They cheered again. Jim grinned at all of them. Adriana wasn't the only child on his side since Kara was with them too.

"I guess we'll make him a forward." Dr. Cardenas said bitterly, probably wondering to herself why she was allowing this.

No one sat out and that this soccer game had teams more than five. The field was wide so it made sense. It's not like they had much daylight to be switching since it was getting colder. Soon, the lights would have more hours on this planet than them.

Everyone got into their positions on the field, waiting for the game to begin. Clayton moved one of the kids aside to take her place, placing himself right across from Jim. Clayton put his palms on his knees, smirking at Jim.

If Clayton thought that this would inhibit Jim of any success, then he couldn't have been more wrong.

"Ready, Jim?"

"I'm taking you down." He answered dramatically.

Clayton raised his brows twice, both high enough to reach his bald head with a laugh.

With a natural whistle from Dr. Cardenas, the game began in full force. Kumar, who was always against Kara in every way, had the ball in his possession and circled around her, which caused the little girl to fall as a result of the confusing movements.

Another kid on Jim's team stole it back and passed it to him. Jim controlled the motion and speed of the ball as he ran across the field. As expected, Clayton chased after him to retrieve it back. The kids flocked soon after.

With a risk, Jim squinted to get a better view of the netted goal and kicked the ball in its direction. He groaned when it didn't go in. The goalie intercepted the ball's entrance with little difficulty. Vanessa was an older one, seventeen. She flicked him off whilst sticking her tongue out.

Despite his failure, the opposite team all had contorted expressions as if Jim signaled the beginnings of war. It was a glare that screamed _'how dare you?'_

Hot damn. What happened to sportsmanship?

The ball got released back onto the field, and Clayton steered away from Jim to chase after Dr. Cardenas who dribbled the ball as if it were her own limb.

Jim jumped in his spot when Spock tapped him on the shoulder.

"Spock!" He gleamed when he turned to the man that had the ability to make his heart skip a beat.

Terrence was beside Spock and gave Jim a quick nod before looking into the crowd with interest.

"Aren't you on shift?" He questioned Spock.

"Lexa informed us of the event. Terrence wished to observe it." Spock answered, taking in Jim's appearance without subtleness. "It has piqued my interest. It has also come to my attention that you were participating. I am surprised Dr. Cardenas is as well."

"Yeah." Jim held the bottom of his dampening shirt and poked it out. "I didn't know you were interested in soccer."

Spock raised one brow challengingly. "You are playing football …"

"It's called soccer." Jim teasingly retorted.

"It is also officially recognized as ' _football'_. A more logical name, I might add. It requires the use of your legs as the main tool. The American sport you deem as football requires one to grasp the ball with their hands. Most illogical."

Jim wiped his face with laughter. He started jogging in place, because he had to get back into the game, the yells from the others begging for his return.

"Chief!" Clayton waved his hand with his back on the ground. The kids were clapping. It seemed that Clayton failed and Dr. Cardenas succeeded in stealing the ball from him. "Join our team!"

"He's on _my_ team!" Jim yelled back. If Spock were going to be on any team, it would be with him.

_Duh._

"That's not fair." Clayton rose up and jogged towards them. "Chief, I'm the only adult on my team."

 _So?_ "Clayton – "

"Clayton's argument is most logical. I arrived as a spectator, however I will rectify the problem as I see fit. I accept your offer."

Jim gaped at him, ignoring Clayton's gloating. The older man ran back to inform his team.

"You want to go against _me_?" He inquired once alone with Spock.

"It appears that Dr. Cardenas is on your team." Spock raised a brow, his mischief hidden behind it. "I am merely balancing the playing field. Are you not confident in your abilities, Jim?"

"Pffttt." Spock's obvious taunt made Jim super defensive. He decided to do the same by pointing directly to Spock's thigh. "I'm not sure your legs are up for my superb abilities."

Spock trod past him with an unexpected comment delivered with such smoothness, Jim hid his face under his palm to conceal his blush.

"I do not recall ' _my legs'_ hindering our intimate activities."

**.**

**.**

**.**

"Chief!"

"Lightrunner!"

"Chief!"

"You're supposed to root for the Lightrunner, stupid!"

"Oh, shut up. He's our freakin' Chief!"

Sweatier this time, Jim had his short sleeves rolled up. He panted in his spot, trying to regain some air back into his lungs.

Spock kicked in his third successful goal and sauntered past Jim with the most taunting smirk, he yearned to kiss it off in front of everyone to get Spock frozen from shock. The kids on both ends came up with this strategy of passing the ball to the adults every chance they got.

It was good … at first.

Then shit went wrong when he realized that Spock could run for longer periods of time without dying like Jim. And man was he dying. Jim almost forgot that Spock was the real Lightrunner here.

The base occupants left the metal walls and crowded outside when news traveled of the game.

Savitra passed Jim a bottle of water, whispering to him to kick the Clayton's ass. "And if those kids want to win, they're going to have to pull their own weight." She huffed. "This strategy isn't fair."

"I'm against your son, you know … "

"He'll survive. Just beat Clayton and Chief, Jim." Savitra responded with an eye-roll.

Unlike Savitra, Katherine was very, very vocal.

"He's dying out there! He's pink, Chief! You go in there and spin the ball around him dizzy! He's human dammit! Kick his measly human ass!"

Spock cast the teacher a quick glance from the outburst that was _supposed_ to be inspiring.

"That's just xenophobic!" Jim raised his voice loud enough for the rated R cheerleader to hear.

"You can't be a xenophobe to your own people!" Katherine yelled back at him, her spirit deep into the game. There were so many sides to this woman.

Apparently, Karim joined the crowd, pushing through to be next to Katherine. "James' team is going to win! You traitor!"

She pushed him away with a light scoff.

The game was set to begin again, Jim and Spock taking center this time. Jim stood in front of Spock and moved his jaw with narrowed eyes filled with determination. Spock stood there calm, his stare moving from Jim's face to his rising chest.

"Chief." Jim cocked his head, and called to Spock for the first time without sarcasm, but with complete seriousness and a hint of seduction. He only referred to Spock with his title daily, inside his head.

Spock parted his lips, stunned long enough to be distracted from the whistle. Jim dashed ahead, relishing in the opportunity he set for himself.

Dr. Cardenas ran beside him, making sure to keep open so he could pass it to her. When he did, she could only hold on for a few seconds before Kumar and Zack ambushed her without mercy, stumbling to the ground soon after. The energetic doctor yelled out how much she hated the dirt and the smell of grass.

With the ball coming his direction, Clayton was the one who intercepted her pass. Quickly, Jim had to change direction to chase after him. Luckily, Clayton let go of the ball because of Adriana messing with his straight kicks.

"That's my girl!" Steven's scream was the loudest in the roaring crowd. It was fueled by the energy of a proud father.

With the ball alone in the field, everyone ran up to it with haste. Luckily Jim was the one closest to it. Because the Universe hated him, a blur of a body abruptly slid past, inches away from his ankles, thus robbing him of it in a blink.

Jim twitched when he realized who it was. "What the - ?"

Spock rose up from the grass after Clayton regained the ball from Spock's steal.

The chanting of 'Chief' got worse from there, deafening Jim's ears. He snarled at the smug Chief before running away to make sure a goal didn't happen.

It took a few more minutes, before he stole the ball back from Zack, immediately giving it to Kara. Jim ran with her as she dribbled near the goal, preventing anyone from interrupting her clear path.

She soon passed it to him so Jim would be the one to kick it inside. Vanessa was on her toes, bouncing in her spot and ready for Jim's move.

He breathed in a quick second, looking to where he could kick the ball. Trusting his final decision, he moved his leg, bringing the ball high enough – impossible for the goalie to reach. She was on the shorter side, so Jim's guess was that they chose her because she was quick on her feet. She caught the ball before.

The roaring resumed after the dead silence from watching the ball flying in the air.

He grinned when he noticed Spock right beside him, practically gawking at the goal. Spock seemed like the running was catching up to him from the little pants and untamed hair. The sight sent a pleasant tingle through his adrenaline pumped body.

Jim waltzed by him with an immature snicker, returning to his ecstatic team with open arms.

"Lightrunner!"

Spock never made it in time.

**.**

**.**

**.**

 

Eventually, Jim had to give up. His neglected injury and depleting strength made it harder to continue. Dr. Cardenas kicked him off of the field while they were in the last quarter of the second match.

Jim wanted to stay in the game, but he knew he was just dead meat at this point. Steven took his place to even out the field. Jim was panting, he was sticky and he wanted to clean up and crash.

The crashing part wasn't allowed anytime soon since his shift was beginning soon, however he didn't want to do it in the state that he was in. He couldn't skip the shift since he already had a sleep-in day. Okay, he technically could and ask someone else to cover for him, except he didn't want the others to assume he was developing a pattern.

There was already one guy like that and everyone stopped taking him up on his offers because of it. Spock never had to intervene by putting him in line because everyone else already did, particularly Savitra.

The silence in the hallway became noticeably weird. Normally, when the doors were open in the morning, some people always decided to stay indoors. The games caught a lot of attention apparently. Jim entered the main restroom and shut the door, stretching his neck with a satisfied groan.

Halfway through taking off his damp shirt, the hum of the room was accompanied by a clang. He dropped his hands and turned around with fists up. He instantly felt like a fool when he saw that it was Spock behind him.

His shoulders drooped with a relieved laugh. "I swear you move like a ninja. I didn't see or hear you coming, Spock."

Spock moved some strands away from his face as he took large strides to Jim, not uttering a word.

"Spock …" Jim's smile disappeared. He backed up to the tiled walls, intimidated by Spock's dark scanning eyes, blinking owlishly.

He slumped against it, realizing that Spock wasn't focusing on his eyes in return, but at his lips, which he was sure to be quivering from the sudden shudder that waved through him. Jim's chest followed his fast breathing because of that unrelenting stare. He sensed a familiar stirring inside his guts.

"Are you okay…?" It was a stupid question. That look could have only meant one thing.

Spock was closing the space, cupping Jim's face with one hand. The close proximity along with Spock's soft touch increased an arousal he didn't know to be growing in his gut. As Spock inclined further, Jim automatically opened his mouth to receive Spock's kiss.

Spock had him trapped between his hot body and the wall as he deepened the kiss, inserting his tongue to slide them together with desperation. He was shocked by Spock's sudden aggression. He would have questioned it but he just sunk into it, his moans vibrating between them.

Spock pulled away from the touch with a low growl.

Jim would have spoke in that moment, except Spock started to lick his sweat slicked nape with hot breaths. He tipped his head back, growing harder from the unexpected sensations. He never got aroused this fast before, but Spock always sparked it with ease.

He didn't want to continue like this, especially here. There were better places and better times. Something told him he couldn't push Spock away even if he wanted to, unless he was really adamant about it, and Jim knew he wasn't strong enough in his opinion to do so. Spock converted him into wanting this by a few skilled motions from that sinful mouth.

Spock was already hard on his thigh, fully blind with pleasure.

"We're … di… dirty." Another gasp escaped him when a hand traveled down his abdomen. "… I swear you're something - Fuck."

"Our state is of little importance to me." Spock calmly declared. "Right now, I desire for you to come for me, wanting for me – "

Spock's moved his hand on Jim's groin and squeezed him, causing Jim to grip onto Spock tighter. He expected it to happen again, however Spock's hand suddenly stilled above his aching self.

"C'mon - " Jim moved his hip forward, clinging to Spock's shoulders. Instead, Spock shifted away from his obvious desire some more. That was not fair in the least.

"Say it, Jim." Spock took Jim's earlobe in his mouth, devouring the flushed skin with his tongue, all with his hands still floating above Jim's sensitive area.

Did Spock want him to beg? Because it was something he never would do with another. If Spock made him though … well, he wasn't exactly sure of what he would do.

"Call me what I am."

"Wha – "

Spock took a fist of Jim's shirt and brought him forward to deliver a crushing kiss, knocking him off all his thoughts. His tongue moved, coaxing Jim's lips apart as his hands traveled up from under his shirt. Spock grasped Jim's waist, carefully avoiding the forming scar and turned him around, his naked stomach on cold tile.

A rugged moan escaped Jim as he placed his palms on the wall for support.

Spock rested his head on Jim's shoulder, heavily breathing while holding him close. Jim had to stop himself from trembling. The drastic temperature differences of Spock's body and the tile overrode his senses.

It didn't help that Spock's erection rubbed on his ass. It was unsanitary, and yet … Fuck, he didn't want Spock to move away. His tired self spontaneously regained some energy so that he could rock against Spock for some relief.

God, he needed it so bad. Spock had to know. Jim could feel him on the edge of his mind, caressing him with loving touches.

Spock was nuzzling him on the crook of his neck. Nothing was satiating Spock's appetite.

"Say it."

His ear became victim to Spock's eager tongue once again. A hand moved on his abdomen and held his cock lightly in its palm again.

It was a hint of what Jim could achieve if he got the answer right. 'Call me what I am?' it wasn't 'Call for me' or anything of the sort.

Did Spock want him to … ?

Oh, fucking hell – that was incredibly hot.

Jim inhaled a sharp breath, allowing himself to just feel – just feel everything. He remembered Spock's face on the field. It was a face of shock followed by absolute hunger.

He arched his back again, closing his eyes and let the title roll off his tongue. "Ch – Chief."

Spock moved him towards the wall again by thrusting against their thin barrier.

Yes - That's it!

The satisfied moan that came from Spock made Jim want to do this again and again. And so he did without thought.

"Please, Chief. I'll do whatever you – umph!"

Jim was pulled back again, Spock unrelenting in those strokes above the annoying fabric. He wanted more. He craved more.

"What do you want, Jim?" Spock asked, traveling a hand up Jim's stomach and to his nipples.

The clothes had to go. Now.

"I want – " He swallowed to prevent another undignified sound. The restroom replayed each and every one back to him.

Spock tightened his hold, moving against him in synch. No matter how low Spock's moan, it bounced on these walls and returned to Jim just the same.

"Just touch me … blow me, fuck me – anything at this point." Jim admitted tremulously, desperate and wanting. His dignity was burnt. "Please, Chief."

He would get down on his knees and pleasure Spock in so many ways, if he just stopped this incessant teasing.

Spock moved his torturing hand and inserted his thumb under the hem of Jim's pants, answering his desires. Thinking that Spock would slide it down, a palm was quickly placed over Jim's mouth instead.

Spock told him to remain silent with a low husky whisper. Jim assumed Spock was still exploring his kinky side, so he licked the digits near his lips without shame.

Jim heard Spock's closed groan as he ripped his palm away, dropping those hands to grab Jim's wrists. It all happened so fast. He somehow got pulled into a shower stall and was left alone with a bang of the door.

Before he could say a word, he heard the main door creak open.

At first he thought Spock left the restroom, leaving him here as some messed up game, however Terrence's singing echoed in the room before another stall door closed at the end of the room. Jim opened his door to get a peek at where Spock was.

His door opened wider by Spock's hand before he entered Jim's stall, shutting the door carefully to avoid any noise.

Jim stepped back to give Spock some room, still dazed from arousal. The water started to trickle on the other end of the room, allowing the two to speak again.

"The game has come to an end." Spock whispered, looking through the little slither of space between the doors. "I cannot stay here."

"This is all your fault." Jim huffed as he crossed his arms.

The singing on the other end got louder.

Both him and Spock gazed at the other, eagerly wanting to continue. The little space between them wasn't helping, still charged up.

"God dammit." Jim launched himself forward and captured Spock's lips. He deepened it and moved his tongue just the way Spock liked as he held onto the sides of Spock's head.

It was a kiss that lasted longer than it should have.

With much struggle, Jim let go of Spock's puckered lips. Spock leaned forward with the tip of his tongue out, but soon stopped himself when Jim shook his head.

"Take a cold shower." He advised with an aggravated sigh before pushing Spock right out of his door. "Sorry."

The others would be coming soon. Again, another sign the Universe liked to play with him.

Jim stayed under the icy running water, feeling his swollen member recede. The restroom became more crowded. Jim knew the other two were crowded as well. Many spoke about how Dr. Cardenas was the best player, and how they had no idea the Chief even liked soccer.

Jim put a fisted hand in his mouth, letting the water swallow him whole. He would never hear that title the same way again

.

.

.

Around the end of his shift, Jim was on his knees, scrubbing one of the ovens with Zack's mother, Ashley. Both of them discussed the game after she apologized for her son hitting his face.

He shook his head lightly, saying that it wasn't a big deal. If anything, it sparked his attention to the game. The fun brought his mind out of some things anyways. It was some well-needed entertainment within the base.

Jim learned an interesting fact about Ashley. Apparently she was a Lieutenant, a helmsman for the USS Bradbury. He didn't know why that sounded familiar.

Maybe he heard some things about it pre-invasion or something. In fact, most of the Starfleet people were from that ship because it recently completed a one-year mission and were planetside for time being. This was supposed to be a small shore leave. Like many others, they assumed help would arrive after the third attack. Obviously that never came.

It made Jim wonder more about Spock's Starfleet life. One could say that it didn't matter anymore, but he was interested nonetheless.

"Until next time!" He energetically yelled to the C Shift as he exited the kitchen. If the G shift ruined his work tomorrow, they would get some words.

Jim entered his room eleven minutes before lockdown. He crashed on the bed after taking off his slippers. His whole body was swarmed with fatigue.

He intended to wait for Spock – perhaps continue what they started today.

No - The thought was actually laughable.

He buried himself in the sheets, and if Spock wanted some action, he would have to be dragged across the bed. His limbs hurt, and his muscles were stiff.

Something told him his waist would have been better if he took better care of it.

A sigh escaped him.

Spock was enabling him.

Just like he was enabling Spock …

His eyelids were too heavy. It wasn't long before Jim only saw darkness. He missed the red lights flashing inside because he was already asleep. The door locked.

**.**

**.**

**.**

Jim woke up alone in a field of sand and purple flowers. His younger self searched for his Starfleet companion. It was all in vain. He tried everywhere, running and running with his sore ankles.

He didn't feel the blue shirted man anywhere… that was weird. Why would he 'feel' the officer?

Before he could keep on that train of thought, fully suited men that haunted his nightmares began to chase him with their weapons. He hid behind one of the ships. This was the part where the red, yellow and blue shirts came out with their neat laser weapons … except they never came.

He should have been grabbed by a blue shirt and hidden in a ship with eight other kids that were as thin and dirty as him. This was the part where they would have stared at the other with confusion, analyzing their faces – still too paranoid to trust a soul. Only one would approach him. A younger girl with the greenest eyes and tanned skin that lost its glow from all the dirt would have hugged him with her feeble arms. The small birthmark above her lip should have moved as she smiled.

He should have been saved.

Instead, a uniformed masked man forcefully picked him up after much screaming, scratching and kicking. He didn't succeed. All this hiding only killed him in the end.

With a shot of a gun, he was back in Spock's room, engulfed in darkness.

After a quick statement from the computer, he realized that it was an hour and thirteen minutes after lockdown. The computer wouldn't open the door past lockdown. Only Spock could do that.

He ran to the door and put his ear on the cold metal, trying to hear anything that could provide him of some information. There was nothing.

He was locked in without a way out. He paced in the dark room, his paranoia and irritation growing. Annoyed by the darkness, he turned on the light.

The room was never that dark no matter how late. The lights always coated them in different hues from the window …

Jim turned to the glass barrier between him and the alien weapons and realized that they were gone.

They were gone…

He spent a lot of time with Dr. Cardenas, mostly discussing his health improvements and general chatter about space and Vulcan culture, with the occasional lessons he wanted to surprise Spock with. It would be a great idea to get his eyes checked next time, because this couldn't be real.

This wasn't fucking real.

**.**

**.**

**.**

Sixteen minutes later, the door slid open. Spock didn't have the opportunity to utter a word. Jim grabbed Spock by the collar and pulled him further into the room. He knew he only got away with it because of Spock's surprise.

With the way Spock stared at Jim, Spock must have known he screwed up big time.

"Jim – "

Instead of responding, he planted one crushing kiss on Spock's lips, grateful that this idiot was alive. All his fears and flashes of his dream seeped through. The shock rang through him when they separated.

Spock was too startled to respond, eyes wide. After the waves of relief, Jim pushed him away with enough strength to make his anger evident.

"You locked me in." He hissed with gritted teeth, not wanting to shout.

Spock touched his lips with his thumb, blinking from shock. "I apologize."

"You apologize? How about telling me before lockdown that you had something to do." He jibed, wanting to push Spock again but refrained. "I was fucking worried, and stuck in this _stupid_ room."

He then pointed to the window that showed a sight he hasn't seen in over a year.

"They're gone."

Spock turned to the empty sky as well. "That is why I have been absent. Terrence and I have been searching for possible signs of life through the system that might take advantage of the extra hours."

Jim pointed to the ceiling. "She doesn't look that far."

"I am aware."

"Were you looking for people … or …" Jim gulped, skidding to an abrupt halt at the thought of what could be out there. What if they came … what if he was right all along?

"We have not come across anything that warrants worry." Spock placed his palms on Jim's shoulders. "Nonetheless, I endeavor to search outside to discover what I can."

Jim got a better look at Spock whom had his outside garments already on.

"We need the fur coats." He declared. Spock wasn't going to go out without him.

Jim was council – he was obviously coming along.

Spock nodded as if he expected as much. "We will retrieve them after we inform Anastasia and Markus. Terrence will remain behind on the monitors."

"Good. He'll be our eyes." Jim let out a sigh, dropping his gaze over Spock's chest. "Your coat … it's fake, right?"

"Affirmative."

That explained so much.

Jim retrieved his clothes, ramming his legs into his pants. He chucked on his shirt and once he was satisfied with his attire, he left the room with Spock. When the door shut behind them, he stopped Spock by catching his forearm.

"You'll never leave me alone like that again."

Spock turned around after a gut-wrenching moment. He looked down at his captured forearm and moved to hold Jim's wrist in his palm. "Never."

Together, they marched through the corridors.

When they stopped across from the council's room, Spock opened his mouth to ask the computer to open the door. Jim rolled his eyes and put a sleeve-covered palm over Spock's mouth.

He knocked the door twice, not wanting to catch the two in a compromising position. As expected, Ana stood in a military erect posture in only Markus' shirt and disheveled hair while Markus was throwing on his clothes behind her.

"Two minutes." She said to them after taking in their outfits.

Markus' grumbled as he struggled to put his shirt, and Spock looked back to Ana with a nod of affirmation.

**.**

**.**

**.**

"This doesn't make sense." Ana was sitting next to Spock in the passenger seat just like the rescue mission. They all made sure the truck was secure as usual.

Only three of them could get out of the truck. It was Markus who offered to remain inside with his guns. They sat in the moving vehicle, ready with their earpieces connected.

Markus finished tying his shoe. Jim just wished that he finished with his rants.

"The lights have made a home on our atmosphere for fucks sake. Were they just bored and decided that they murdered enough for a damn millennia."

"You speak as if the lights are sentient entities." Spock retorted, his hands on the wheel.

"They're weapons, Markus." Ana cast an eye roll in Markus' direction.

"I was talking about the ones who brought them here." Markus scrunched his nose. "There aren't any ships outside. The computer didn't sense anything above. Isn't that what Terrence said?"

"We have not accumulated enough information to come to a conclusion." Spock answered.

"We have lost the ability to know shit when those things flew down." Markus concluded. "

"Wouldn't Starfleet take advantage of this window?" Jim began with his stupid optimism. "I mean … that's one theory for why no one has come yet. The lights were in the way." Something as big as a ship was too vulnerable. It would only take one of those to slide inside, thus killing everyone.

Markus let out a laugh. "If they did come, the whole planet would be a landing ground. We have no communication. Everything is down. They could be in Bangladesh."

"Starfleet's arrival is improbable." Spock quickly opined. "There are a plethora of variables to conduct a mission of this caliber. To penetrate the atmosphere and enter the planet is a risk in itself. They may not be able to escape if the lights spontaneously returned."

"This is Earth!" Ana channeled her Markus and grumbled. "A founder of the Federation."

"The benefits and disadvantages are weighed before any rescue mission. This is Starfleet's way. This is the military's way, Markus." Spock increased the speed. "You should know this."

"I would never leave my men." Markus tsked under his breath. "Let alone my entire damn species."

Terrence scoffed in their ears. _"Alright Superman. Calm down. Believe or not, we're on our own."_

Jim gave Markus a sympathetic smile, if the twitch of his upper lips could be called one. "Not everyone is like you."

"Guys …" Ana lifted a finger. "Do you ever wonder if the lights went to other nearby planet? M Class maybe?"

"They left _us,_ to jump to another planet?" Markus narrowed his eyes. "So these aliens let these things out, messing with the vastness of space … for **_fun_**?"

She shrugged. "Anything is possible at this point."

"The lights eliminate humanoid life, Anastasia." Spock said. "Assuming that they operate with some form of logic, a possible purpose for this is to inhabit the planet - as Jim suggested before. We could be dealing with a nomadic species. If they were to _jump_ to another planet, it is safe to say that they would do so after their migration on Terra."

"I think the word your looking for is conquer. They didn't ask to be here. They annihilated." Jim added with a grim expression, sinking lower in his seat. "Anyways, their stay could range from hundreds to thousands of years before they leave."

Spock answered after a long pause. "Precisely."

 _"So they'll come, suck the planet dry and skip right on ahead. Goodie."_ Terrence added.

"There's a name for that." Ana crossed her arms. _"_ Phase Two."

Manual clean up.

Jim looked out his window with a dry swallow.

After a few more minutes of driving, Markus took the wheel and everyone exited with their weapons and coats. With hours of searching, no signs of life were found and nothing descended from the sky.

The clear night didn't seduce the idea of covering more ground for the people still out there. That showed Jim that they were smart.

When the group returned, Spock enabled the computer to open all the doors, initiating the alarm.

The proper word to describe the gathering of the base was _anarchy_.

Some rooms had windows – Some didn't.

The audience spoke amongst themselves, discussing what they saw, what they think they saw and what they hoped they saw. Jim stood on the side with Ana and Markus after they took off their fur coats.

Spock enthroned himself on a table, and scanned the crowd in front of him with a calm look that had the ability to scrutinize the toughest creature. He waited for them to settle down from their separate conversations. After the voices dimmed down to a tolerable level, Spock only had to say one word to get rid of the rest. The room belonged to him.

"It appears the majority of you have already been made aware of the lights' disappearance."

The questions came pouring out once again. Spock raised his hand, signaling for silence.

"We cannot deduce if this is a permanent event or a one time occurrence. All we are aware of is that we will keep careful watch with every minute. To those of you who assume that Starfleet will arrive, I regret to inform you that the probability of that is very thin."

Jim clenched his jaw when he saw the parents holding their kids tighter. He was thankful that Spock refrained from stating the exact percentage of how fucked they all were.

"For the safety of the base, we cannot allow for anyone to leave the walls during the daylight." Spock frowned for a quick second before putting his lips in a stern line. "Nothing has ensured us that the lights' daily retreat is a result of their intolerance to the sun's rays. Its current absence could be a sign of its adaptation. The lights are unpredictable. They could very well return, sweeping the base clean."

Jim bit his tongue after hearing the raw truth.

Spock sighed. "The council and I have scouted outdoors for people whom could have taken advantage of the clear night to cover more ground. In that manner, we are safe."

Exhales of relief filled the room.

"In these walls, we are safe."

**.**

**.**

**.**

It was decided that the room doors remain open. The risk of a breach was always less than one percent, and the lights were gone tonight. Some people went back to sleep, while some decided to have an early breakfast. This filled the cafeteria to levels Jim has never seen. This was mainly because if it were after lockdown, most of them would have been eating outside.

Because of the new rule, and because it was still technically lockdown, the base decided to keep the lights low and start exchanging horror stories after a vote.

Spock sat next to Jim in complete disbelief. Jim laughed when the Chief said that they were all illogical in their unanimous decision for such an activity. The point was to temporarily eliminate the worry of their current situation with this gathering, not increase it with stories filled with suspense and horror.

Karim and Steven were the ones to grab flashlights from the storage room, saying that it would add more effect to stories.

"Stop laughing!" Kumar said to the group when they started to chuckle at his story. "It was the scariest thing ever!"

Zack jumped on the table and yelled, "Who wants to hear my story instead?!"

"That was rather rude." Spock said near Jim's ear as the people cheered in affirmation.

"They're just joking around." Jim replied, not seeing anything actually heinous.

Zack cheered with the rest of the base. "Okay, so basically it starts off like this. You have a group of five. The popular jock, the free-spirited girl, the shy girl, the conspiracy theorist guy, and the guy who gets regular temper tantrums."

A couple boos already came out, and Zack pouted. "It's not what you think!"

"Explain the reasoning for the sudden negative reaction. I found the group to have a variety of characteristics. They could each add a unique aspect to the story." Spock suggested.

"The problem is that we know every single one, taking away all originality. It's the template of every horror story, Spock. An overused cliché." Jim answered, hiding his smile. "Next, the group is going to go off into a far away cabin."

"Listen up." Zack continued. "They all go on a trip to the angry guy's family cabin."

Jim covered his mouth to conceal his laughter. He was the only one who did it. The others let out their guffaws raw and free. He adored the fact that the atmosphere changed in the base in less than an hour.

"Is there an eerie old man warning them not to enter the area too?" Steven scoffed, nudging the lady on his side.

"Bet you they didn't listen." Adriana giggled with her dad.

Spock squinted his eyes. "I am assuming that they ignored it."

Jim's smile widened. "Damn right."

"They should have listened." Spock tsked.

Zack ignored the blurted out comments, moving on with his stubbornness. "When it gets dark, they all get killed off one by one by this crazy black fog that looks like a demon. If you look closely enough, it has a deformed face and red glowing eyes. The first one to die is …"

"The jock!" The group answered with a yell.

Zack stuck his tongue out to them. "But he didn't die alone! He died with the – "

"The free spirited girl!"

"Well, damn." Zack pointed the light ahead, blinding half of them temporarily.

"Why were they isolated from the rest of the group?"

"Because they were screwing like bunnies."

Spock's pause was a long one. He opened his mouth … then shut, deciding not to comment.

"Sex pretty much gets you killed in every horror story." Jim added with a grin. "Something tells me we would die with our pants down." He whispered to Spock's ear with a teasing drawl, enjoying every second of Spock's darkening cheeks.

Zack waved the flashlight at the audience with irritation. "Since you're all a bunch of geniuses, let's skip everyone. Who's the last survivor?"

Jim yelled the answer in unison with the group this time. "The shy girl!"

Spock raised a brow. "Is this supposed to be comforting?"

"I think he's going for the comedic side." Jim nudged at Spock. "And comedy is always comforting."

"They need to stop killing the conspiracy guy by the way." Karim blurted out, a bunch of people agreeing with him. "He actually knows his shit!"

"It's my story, Karim!" Zack nodded, his head above the bright florescent light. "The reason on why this happens in almost every story is because they're actually a series of ritualistic sacrifices demanded by the supernatural creatures that have been on Earth for thousands of years. Kind of like the sacrifices they did in Ancient Egypt and the Mayans, but more secretive."

"A barbaric and senseless action in itself." Spock tipped his head forward, listening to the tale. "An expression of mass brainwashing as a result of perpetually fed delusions."

"Doesn't matter the day and age – the village, city or planet." Jim commented. "It has happened, is happening and might happen again."

He knew it all too well.

"An unfortunate morbid reality." Spock simply agreed with a nod.

Zack hushed the mumbling group that already spoke of their own theories. "In this world, the global leaders had to accept these rituals if they wanted to remain the superior race on the planet, and for these beings to not go insane on the general population. For this practice to take place, a selected few in the government were chosen to conduct these rituals in an underground base, watching the chosen teens and making sure they all died in chronological order."

"So the president knows of this?!" Dr. Cardenas shouted out.

Markus was the one who answered. "Of course the fat bastard knows!"

"He's not talking about **our** president." Ana slapped his arm. "It's a story!"

"Sure does." Zack answered pointing the flashlight back under his chin. "So in the story, instead of the shy girl dying in the end like she's supposed to, she finds out about this organization and gets inside, instead of escaping. This shy girl actually transforms into a badass and decides that she won't run away."

Okay … Jim loved this character.

"She's says to herself that she's going to kill every single one of them, blowing the whole operation to kingdom come!"

Pandemonium broke out, rooting for this girl with intense enthusiasm.

"That is an unexpected turn of events" Spock commented, deep into the story.

"Won't the beings just go insane?" Karim tilted his ahead in question. "Wasn't that the point of the operation? To keep the peace and prevent freakin' anarchy, man?"

"The girl finds out about that too, dude. Like I said, she wanted to run away when she found out about this. She then decided against it, because she knew the next ritual would take place soon or the demons would be unleashed, wanting blood. She was devastated more would go through what she went through." Zack pouted his lips. "With a crap load of planning, she sets up a trap where she knows the evil things are going to come for her, wanting revenge because rituals should never, ever be interrupted. It was an insult. They were thousands of years old, and this little girl ruined everything! Next thing you know … Hundreds of them came into this one room, including its leader."

"Oh, no." Jim mumbled under his breath.

**_"Kaboom!"_ **

Everybody winced back from Zack's sudden scream.

"She video taped her discoveries beforehand with the conspiracy guy's equipment, and kept it someplace where it could be easily discovered." Zack declared the girl's successes with approval. "The world governments were held accountable for their actions, arrested one by one. Best believe that was the last ritual to ever take place."

Zack passed the flashlight to Karim and bowed as the rest awkwardly applauded.

"How does this story fall under the horror genre?" Spock said. "The female protagonist succeeded in her endeavors. The ones that required sacrifice were ultimately destroyed."

"It was funny, yes. She did succeed too. Too bad she died." Jim replied after much thought. "It's a horror because the evil entities weren't the main antagonists like you'd think. The very people, who swore to take care of their people, failed her. If she could have taken out these things, then the world powers definitely could have, but they took the easy way and succumbed when there was another option. It was more of a risk, but as leaders, they should have taken it. That sounds like the horror to me."

Karim took the stand, ready to start his story.

"An understandable logic."

**.**

**.**

**.**

"What are you doing?"

Jim was asking himself the same thing.

They were both dressed in their nightwear and on the bed with the sheets over their waists. He sensed that Spock wasn't sleeping. He wouldn't get some shuteye anytime soon either.

He sat up on his side of the bed, and caressed his finger with Spock's. Spock gazed at him, understanding that Jim had something to say.

"I have a story for you."

Spock removed his hands with a gulp. "Are you ready?"

"I am." Jim let out a weak smile. "I thought long and hard today. I want to know more about you, your culture – heck, your language. All I got in the end of that long thought was that I was being hypocritical. You don't know much about me. How could I expect you to reciprocate?"

"Jim – "

"Let me finish." Jim placed his index finger on Spock's lips. "The story begins with a James Tiberius Kirk. I think I should have told you before we slept together. I shouldn't have told you in a memory first either." He let out a chuckle, moving his hand away. "This James character happened to be born the same day his father died."

"The USS Kelvin." Spock responded with a wavering tone. "Your father was the acting Captain for Captain Richard Robau."

"I figured that you might know." As a part of Starfleet, he knew Spock would know the second he told Spock's little self his full name. Ashley, Cardenas and Anastasia hinted on it too. Steven and the others didn't.

"Mr. Kirk's story was a very prominent one as cadet."

"Were you ever going to bring it up?"

"Only when it seemed fitting."

"Which is …? "

Spock raised a brow, unsure. "Now."

"What else do you know?" A laugh escaped him. "This would be easier if I just filled in the blanks."

"I know that you were alone on a dying planet, although I do not know where or why?" Spock whispered. "I want to know more. I desire to know all that there is about you."

Jim deflated from the sweet words. "Well, James used to be an omnivore." He blurted out.

"He also favors green grapes, and never the ones with seeds." Spock added, looking at Jim's fingers with a hint of a smile. "James abhors seeds and hypo-shots."

"And he misses Andorian Ale." Jim groaned for comedic effect. "He used to ride a motorcycle. He would take it everywhere. He avoided other sorts of transportation, the trips always being sort of therapeutic." He closed his eyes, feeling the wind on his skin from the memory. "James has a brother, George Samuel Kirk. He thinks Sam's safe somewhere out there. He wasn't on Earth."

"He must be grateful."

"Yep. They didn't talk much though." Jim nodded. "His mom and him could have had a better relationship as well. She tried to make things better between them, but he was too damn stubborn. Their relationship was … okay – except it could have been better. Shame he won't get the opportunity to rectify that anymore."

"Do you – "

Jim quickly gave Spock a cautionary look.

Spock cleared his throat. "Does _James_ believe her to be deceased or is she off planet?"

"Dead. Definitely." He already came to terms with it long ago. "She lived on a rural area in Iowa. A house that big, and an old one like that, is too vulnerable. She probably became victim to the first attack."

"She could have ventured to a safer location."

"That's sweet Spock, but he doubts it." He rested his head on Spock's shoulder. He continued, "A part of him always wanted to see space. Maybe live there. Be on a ship if that's not too far fetched. He's been up there once, but that doesn't compare to an actual _mission_."

Spock leaned back so Jim could lean on him in a more comfortable position. "Did he ever intend to join the Academy?"

"That's actually why he moved here. Imagine if he were your classmate - "

"I would have been his professor."

"Kinky." Jim nuzzled Spock's shoulder. "Would you prefer Professor or Chief?"

"Do not tempt me, Jim." Spock's voice hummed through him. "I want to hear your story."

"Well … James had a decent childhood – just rebellious at times. Sometimes too rebellious." Jim added. "One crazy incident sent him somewhere far away. Turns out, he actually liked it a lot. Met the nicest kids. He always wondered why Earth kids couldn't be like that. Then again, kids are ruthless on every solar system."

Spock caught onto the meaning and nodded with agreement.

"There were these bright flowers that came from nowhere. Sometimes he thought they were photoshopped, someone forgetting to tone down the saturation. The wind always carried the petals across the fields, swimming across the sky."

The memory of the fields flooded his mind.

"He didn't know how, but the soil eventually became useless. Rumors started to spread from sector to sector. Eventually, rumor became fact - the crops stopped growing and a drought followed. Just when he thought things couldn't get worse, the planet didn't have the reserved technology such as replicators so there was nothing to compensate for the loss. The colony's plan to be 'natural' screwed them in the end."

Spock's eyes started to widen, realization kicking in with a bang. "Jim?"

"This is James' story." Jim reiterated. He had to do this, because he couldn't imagine himself doing it again. "His whole sector died one by one. That's one thousand just on his end. Naïve towards the whole situation, he prayed that aid would arrive soon. Searching for hope, many migrated to the center to hear the council speak. Their words were empty, stating that a solution was a complicated matter and time was required to fix this. Then one day, the council members showed up, but none of them were sitting this time. They were standing with Governor, side by side. It was different. Everything was different. James wasn't the only one to notice, because the cheering started."

Jim gulped. Spock held onto him tighter, sending messages of how it wasn't necessary for him to continue.

It was obvious now. Spock knew what he was talking about. The whole world did.

"Like a complete idiot, he cheered along with them." He almost lost his hearing by the relieved howls that day.

He shifted his gaze back to Spock, allowing those touches that used their bridge to see every feature of his shaking core. Spock was holding his hand - not writing on some PADD and taking notes on his recovery.

He said this story a million times with his return to Earth. He dealt with this already. He just never told anyone outside of a clinical setting.

"Thinking that there wouldn't be any more death, one cold speech guaranteed more."

He had to shake away the familiar sounds of cheers morphing into inhuman screams. It didn't take a genius to know when they were on that list.

He never waited for his name to be called.

He was already running for his life.

The hunt began.

"James was part of the Miracle Nine…" It almost sounded like a question, but Spock already deduced the answer – just testing the title on his tongue - A title that was broadcasted on every news outlet and article.

"It's a stupid name, isn't it? Man, he was just happy to have been kept anonymous." Jim jested to add some humor in the heavy environment that was still filled with his macabre confession. "He was the last one they rescued, hence the memory he loves to skip around in so much. You were right. It was the best of the worst."

In a way, it was also a reminder.

"It is also a reminder, you say…" Spock uttered, sensing Jim's blaring thought. "I can see how it could be one. It is a reminder that James had already faced the end of the world. Of course it was not as sudden as the one he is currently experiencing now, since everything on Terra irreversibly altered in one evening. Instead, it happened in unforeseen ways in a torturous duration of weeks. Minuscule changes within the communities, the closing down of local markets, the accelerated rumors and an environment filled with tension. It all became obvious when a pair of children publicly fought over a loaf of bread."

Every word became a thumbnail on the surface of his old memories, flipping through the pages with incredible detail.

"The term 'Miracle Nine' was a title placed on him and the other adolescents because of the general public's inability to understand their survival, automatically assuming that it was a result of divine intervention. They refused to acknowledge that his survival was a direct result of his grating will to live, his bravery and skills. James endured it all. He is reminded of all of that when he sees purple petals in an empty field. He won that day, and he will again."

Spock saw so much that Jim could only blink at the man with parted lips. Never had he had someone understand it for what it was. The memory was supposed to be the worst part of his life. A memory of how he faced each day like a challenge that he would win just to spite the world.

When the invasion took over, he despised that he had to return to the feeling of uncertainty and dread with every hour. _Round Two,_ he would say.

But here he was – genuinely anticipating the next day, looking forward to every moment because he was home.

He was with Spock.

**_._ **

**_._ **

**_._ **

Leonard and M'Benga long asked the team to leave the room whenever Spock and Jim had private conversations. This was mostly because it would lead to something too personal or something too sexual. They've seen it all before. This was only because of Leonard's responsibility as a friend. He did the same for the bridge crew.

Sulu's SIM was too chaotic to consider a love interest, and his SIM world only lasted two weeks. Uhura didn't have one either, which was shocking because she could have – her SIM lasted long enough to desire a companion, but she never bothered. Chekov desired one at first, but not after his fourth round. Scott had a love interest though … except it got him killed in the end.

As Spock and Jim's SIM went on, M'Benga and him were in their seats, their knuckles white from clinging onto the sides of the bio-beds. When Spock spoke of his mother and his last call with her, they hoped that their cross in history didn't invalidate the SIM. If everything operated correctly then the memory would be blocked or filled in … something Spock was noticing. At least Jim had something to blame his questions on.

Jim's laughter filled the room.

Leonard and M'Benga exhaled a sharp breath when they realized that everything would be fine. Well, as fine as things could be in this mess.

The team returned for a quick moment, working on things him and M'Benga were too tired to do. They refused to switch shifts. If they were gone for even a few hours, the Admirals could skip days and they wouldn't be able to catch up – or worse – miss something harrowing. They had the functions to go back, but sometimes it would be too much material.

After a few more hours, the unprofessional bets on who would win the soccer game came to an end. He allowed them this one joy. Leonard internally chanted Lightrunner, but he wasn't going to tell a soul.

Alone once again, he discovered many things through the SIM. Many things he could have gone without.

Spock had some kind of power kink?

Spock. Had. A. Kink.

"I need mind bleach." He grumbled as he sunk into his seat, looking away from the three screens of a situation that was seconds from becoming pornographic.

Another second later and the scenes changed.

As expected in Round Five, things would accelerate. The lights were gone, for one. It was the start of the end.

_"You locked me in."_

"Irresponsible, Mr. Spock." M'Benga shook his head, talking to a sleeping Spock.

They were presented with the view of the council scouting the grounds with guns. A part of him was paranoid that another batch of vicious animals would try to tear them apart. Luckily, they all got back safe.

When Zack started to tell his story, Leonard and M'Benga knew that one of the operators were either playing a sick game or sending Jim and Spock a message.

"I should call them and give them enough words to make them cry to their mothers." M'Benga hissed. "That was more than a glitch."

"A double agent is at work." He joked.

It wasn't well received.

Jim and Spock were alone once again. By the fuzz on the screen, Leonard knew that the operatives were ready to manipulate it by Admirals' request. There was a look on Jim's face – one that said he had a lot on his mind.

_"I have a story for you."_

Just as Leonard suspected, he was right. Something told him that he wanted to hear this. He could see Jim's hesitance, his concern. Thankfully, Leonard had the capabilities of preventing the time skip and letting it continue on one of the screens while Jim and Spock were having breakfast on the other.

M'Benga turned to him. "We don't need to see this. It's not a medical emergency, McCoy."

He lifted a finger, moving his ear closer to hear the words. "Shhhh."

Each sentence filled in a puzzle he didn't know was there. Spock's face reflected his. He was frozen.

… What did he just fucking hear?

"McCoy."

M'Benga's words came in one ear and went out the other.

"McCoy, snap out of it."

He blinked a few times and stared at the one screen with wide eyes. He didn't expect this - Not at all.

"I take it you didn't know?" M'Benga said, skeptical.

"No…"

M'Benga frowned "But, the Captain claims that you're his best friend."

Leonard opened his mouth, but then closed it because he didn't know what to say. He didn't even know what to think. Everything was running an uncoordinated marathon, fucking with his psyche.

The Miracle Nine. Nine unknown children and kids escaped the executions that were sent out on Tarsus IV. Jim was … Jim was one of them?

"I heard that it was more than the Governor's men that hunted them. Some citizens joined in as well, hungry and scared. It's just speculation anyways. None of those kids ever confirmed or pointed them out, thus never getting charged." M'Benga had his knuckles under his chin, looking at Jim's body with a deep frown. "That explains his ruthlessness with Camp Salvatus."

Jim kept a cocky demeanor, except Leonard could perceive that Jim did that to compensate for his insecurities. They were always ill placed in McCoy's opinion. Jim was pure potential. The insane roommate put in more work than any other cadet. Shoving all of that aside, the failure of the Kobayashi Maru ate at Jim. It devoured him.

There were times when Leonard just wanted to tell Jim to snap out of it. Jim was as good, if not better than any other cadet. Stop studying. Sleep, dammit!

When he found out about the manipulation of Spock's system, he wasn't surprised. Jim said he wouldn't accept failure after all.

As a best friend, as a person who saw Jim every damned day, he had a front row seat and yet … he never saw _this_.

His stomach leapt to his throat, burning every inch in its passage. He clenched his chest, and let it out in the plastic container M'Benga placed before him.

No wonder Jim was like that. This explained everything in his behavior, down to his martyr complex. This feeling of unworthiness originated from an official document that was looked over, approved, stamped and broadcasted with zero remorse.

_"He won that day, and he will again."_

Leonard waved his hand above his head with his eyes shut, indicating that M'Benga should continue with the Admirals' screen. He couldn't bear to hear more. Fatigue was taking over.

He made a mental note to increase his caffeine, not giving a shit about the acidity levels of his empty stomach. He had medicine for that.

**.**

**.**

**.**

"Did I say it right?"

"It is plomeek." Spock corrected him again.

Jim said the word just as he heard it. "Ploh-meek?"

"Better." Spock nodded approvingly. "It is a Vulcan plant that is mainly utilized for broth. Spock does not hold one food in favor over the other, since they serve the same purpose, however he has discovered to miss it greatly. A sentiment he did not expect."

"Bet it tasted great then. James misses cheeseburgers." Jim pouted, his head on Spock's lap, looking up at the man he wanted to hold forever. "The thought of it makes him sick now, but he still wants it for old times sake. Too bad he now has an abusive relationship with meat. Spock conditioned him."

"The world conditioned him. Spock did not partake in his current psychological response." Spock looked away when Jim laughed. "Another fact. Spock used to play the lute."

Jim looked up, gaping as he moved his hand up to bring down Spock's chin. "The Chief played an instrument?"

Spock nodded, holding Jim's hand between his palms. It was a careful gesture. "Indeed. He played it very well. Perhaps the best in his generation."

A smirk emerged on his lips. "James loves Spock's modesty."

"It is a fact he does not bother to conceal. For another to call themselves the best would be a lie."

"And Vulcans do not lie." Jim reiterated perfectly like a good boy scout.

"Correct." Spock moved a blanket higher on Jim's body with his other hand still on Jim's, thankfully not misinterpreting Jim's words as mockery. "I have another term. S'chn T'gai."

His tongue and vocals were ready to repeat it like a perfect recording. Within a second, he thought against it and gave himself a moment. It was the most complicated word so far. "How do I even begin with that one?"

Spock broke it down for him, and Jim attempted the syllables with much skill. In his head at first, then out loud, receiving a view glances of approval in the meantime. After three tries, Spock announced Jim's pronunciation as tolerable.

"Just _tolerable_?"

"There is always room for improvement." Spock caressed Jim's goose bumped covered arm with his fingers back and forth as if it wasn't driving Jim crazy.

He smacked his lips, refusing to get vacuumed into the sensation. He was adamant on being a good student. "I'll get it right. Spit out the meaning, Spock."

It was then that Spock stopped all gestures. "S'chn T'gai Spock. That is my name"

Jim instantly shifted in his spot, using his other hand to rest his weight on his palm to lift his body up. Spock stiffened, his eyes meeting Jim's with a vulnerable expression. It was a simple sentiment, however Jim's insides were moving from the immense adoration that invaded him.

Spock finally blinked with a swallow. "The next term is – "

"No. We're going over this." Jim stayed where he was, remaining still as he gazed at Spock's face in its entirety. "And tolerable isn't acceptable."

"It is not obligato – "

He shushed Spock with soothing whispers. He reached forward and softly pressed his lips on Spock's, sending every intention of wanting to get Spock's name done so perfectly, he could moan it without difficulty as they ravished each other.

Spock pulled away with wide eyes, his natural pigment darkening. It was then that Spock put his palm on Jim's chest, lightly pushing him back down with a hiss.

Jim settled his head on Spock's lap again, adjusting himself to get comfortable. He was well aware of the mischievous grin on his face.

"You are incredibly persuasive." Spock admitted.

"We're learning more about each other, aren't we?" Jim winked.

Spock sharply exhaled. "Let's begin."

**.**

**.**

**.**

Three days later, and Jim started to feel the beginnings of claustrophobia. He stood up to leave the crowded library with a couple of books of his choosing - Mostly ones that aided with language pronunciation. One was called 'Soften Your Tongue' – either the author was being extremely literal, or there was a dirty undertone there.

Spock and him spent their nights in this game where they would exchange random facts about the other, meditating and Vulcan lessons. Dr. Cardenas offered to teach him a thing here and there. She wasn't fluent, but she knew enough that Jim could surprise Spock.

So apparently Spock was older than him. Not by much, but still enough for Jim to jokingly mope about it to make Spock constantly question what the actual issue was. Not only that, Jim also learned that Vulcans kissed by connecting their fingers.

It wasn't a sexual gesture, Spock explained.

It wouldn't stop Jim from turning it into one if he wished.

The meditating sessions always ended with fatigue, hence why it was mostly done before sleep, but it always eased their mental stress – making each day more and more easier.

Spock would always feel regret; however he acknowledged Jim's point, especially after considering the detailed memories he shared of Camp Salvatus and Tarsus IV after much demand to see it. With a sigh, he pinched the bridge of his nose.

Terrence peaked at Jim from under his wide book with a knowing stare. It made Jim realize that maybe him and Spock weren't as quiet as they hoped in the restroom. Terrence always threw subtle clues at Jim, letting him know that he knew. Jim got the message loud and clear.

_"Come to think of it, I never heard you call our Chief, 'Chief'." Steven mentioned during breakfast._

_Terrence played with his toothpick, not showing signs of dropping his stare. "Yea, Jim. Why is that?"_

Jim really wished the rooms had their own restroom. He never thought much of screwing in a shower, because he knew it was a complicated thing in general. It was the fact that it was impossible to even try, that made Jim want to try it even more. At least their bandages were off now.

If only those measly lights stopped acting so damn uncanny, him and Spock could get more done, and naked hopefully.

"Until next time, Jim."

He had to get his thoughts outside the gutter – he was surrounded by youngins. "Until next time."

Katherine stopped her group reading to wave at Jim.

He waved back with a smile and left. Karim was outside the door and grabbed Jim's wrist without consideration.

"This whole place needs to stop manhandling me!"

Karim dismissed his complaint. "It's all love."

Jim unwillingly followed Karim back into the library, holding his books close. "Why're we going back in, and why do you need me exactly?"

"Steven found something." Karim said right before he pointed to Terrence. "You. Chief needs us."

Terrence tossed his book to another person before following Jim and Karim.

"What did Spock say?" Jim asked.

"Yea – what did our _Chief_ say?" Terrence pursed his lips in a complacent manner, emphasizing the title on purpose.

Jim scrunched his nose, glaring at him. They locked eyes with the obvious message of ' _I know you know'_ floating between them.

Karim stopped in his steps, looking between the two men and groaned. "Let's go!"

They both let it go, mentally promising to continue this another time.

Once they all entered the room, Ana, Markus and Spock were already in the room. Jim glanced at Spock for a second before blinking to Steven, who was sitting in one of the two chairs in the room.

"What's going – " Jim shut his mouth when he saw a truck on screen. From the stats in the corner, he saw that it was seventy-one miles out.

It was the computer's maximum view. The only reason on why they did their scouts were to search behind and inside buildings. The truck was in empty land. Extreme details weren't necessary to get what was going on.

"I found this." Steve began. "They just stopped, and I don't know why. They haven't moved in twenty-three minutes."

"Doesn't look like it holds that many people." Ana added, her palms on her hips. "No cars or crafts followed."

"If they were arriving, then they would have done so already." Spock said with his eyes fixated on the screen. "Or they agreed to remain behind."

Markus agreed. "We should approach them. They're getting too close to us."

"It's safe to assume that they're waiting for people. What else are they waiting for? Do they plan on camping out the night since the lights decided to disappear?" Jim pondered aloud.

Terrence scoffed as expected. "Please, a whole entire night? I'm paranoid in our own trucks. Lights or no lights."

"Whoa – guys …" Karim put his hands up, fingers pointed directly on the middle screen.

Jim saw the truck door open, one foot sticking out. A tall man in camouflage clothing, and a brown mow hawk cut, left the drivers seat and strolled to the back, opening the trunk. He took out one long stick that probably took up the whole trunk.

"What's he need the big stick for?" Karim pursed his lips, confused at the sight.

Two more men exited the vehicle with a white bag that was big enough to hold a pig. Jim tilted his head, taking a step forward to get a closer look, resting his palms on the back of Steven's seat.

"The bag … it's … moving." Ana stated Jim's observation.

The man who first exited the vehicle, inserted the large stick in the dirt and pointed at another man, saying something none of them could hear. The men tugged at the bag, removing it with their strength. A tied up person was revealed.

No – a tied up Ferengi.

_Shit, shit, shit._

They were strapping him around the stick with rope. One of the men brought out a red jar. Jim's seen this too many times before. He's seen the evolution of these killing go from sporadic isolated events to fiendishly ritualistic events held by the biggest crowds. Each time made Jim want to vomit.

Karim's jaw dropped. "Holy shit!"

They were drenching the struggling Ferengi with grins on their faces. This was not their fist time.

"Go, go – get the fuck out!" Karim called out, running forward to zoom into the image in absolute frenzy to make sure that this was actually happening.

"Right with you there." Ana said, stepping backwards. Jim moved to follow her, but realized that Spock and Markus weren't moving.

Markus had his eyes on the floor with his arms crossed, using the wall for support. Spock was as still as Bud, not moving an inch with the blankest face.

Those were the faces of men who've seen this all too much.

"This is getting ridiculous." Ana marched to Markus "We have to do something!"

Markus turned away with a contorted expression while Terrence held her back.

"And what … chase them to shoot them down? We've been through this, Ana."

Karim reached out, his fingers on Spock's coat. "Chief – C'mon man."

Jim knew it was all in vain. Spock made his decision, and Jim knew exactly why. This had nothing to do with what was right or wrong, with what was logical or illogical. This had everything to do with what was possible.

Or in this case … _impossible_.

Mr. Mow Hawk lit a match and trod sadistically slow to the damp Ferengi.

"It is too late." Spock spoke out, his eyes empty and jaw clenched.

Markus swallowed. "We wouldn't make it."

Jim let go of the chair when Steven turned around, staring at the space of metal wall next to Jim's shoulder. Jim never knew where Steven was during the first attacks. Some people were used to this, and some would never be. It seemed like Steven wouldn't be able to handle this.

Karim moved away from Spock and held onto Jim's arm as he covered his mouth with a low whimper. He would have crumbled too, but he was numb. All he could do was cover Karim's eyes.

No one moved until they saw the men drive away – thankfully in the opposite direction, disappearing from sight.

Shades of fiery orange illuminated the room, branding this image of melting skin in their minds. Jim was thankful for the absence of sound.

Spock redirected the screen to another area by slamming a button on the consul. After he told them that they were dismissed, the bottom of his coat swayed when he stormed out of the room.

Steven left soon after. Anastasia supported Karim up, and out of Jim's hands.

The rest had exchanged cringed expressions. This was what this world was reduced to.

**.**

**.**

**.**

It wasn't hard to find Spock soon after. With the base so crowded, the news spread of the Chief in the gym. Apparently Spock's aura was so thick and black, everyone took to other activities and stayed away from the gym.

Spock didn't kick them out … he just kind of made it so that they would leave … ish?

Jim didn't honestly know. He didn't know much anymore. The ones near the gym corridor looked at Jim like he was crazy for walking in the opposite direction and into the doors.

They weren't scared of Spock. They just weren't stupid either.

"Spock."

He shut the dual doors behind him, extremely attentive of the punches filling the room. More equipment would be victim to Spock's fury today.

"I require seclusion, Jim."

"Then go to your room." Jim marched to the busy Chief. "You're troubling everyone." He originally wanted to hold the bag to make Spock stop, but saw it for the stupid idea that it was, especially considering how high the thing was flying. "I'll stay with Karim tonight if you need to be alone."

Another punch. "Unnecessary."

So Spock wanted to be alone, but didn't want Jim to stay elsewhere tonight.

"I will be fine." Spock added.

Jim doubted that. He would have been able to see through the bullshit even if he was bat shit high on his old medication. Luckily the ones Dr. Cardenas gave him didn't have the same effects. "Are you sure?"

"Of course." Spock did three kicks without moving his leg down for a second. "This is only the fifty-eighth incident that I have witnessed."

The morbid sarcasm made Jim wince. A couple more attacks on the bag, and he made his decision. He inhaled and took a few strides forward, somehow ending up between Spock and the bag.

Like he thought before – Stupid. At least it was better than seeing Spock abuse his hands in such a way.

Spock staggered back with his hands dropping to his sides. Jim didn't miss the darkened green pigment on his knuckles. If it weren't for Spock's ability to sense his surroundings, then Jim would have been hit.

"It's reprehensible. It is … it is immoral, corrupt, and foul beyond measure. They murdered a helpless sentient being without hesitance, not for a false sense of duty, not defense, but for their _enjoyment_." Spock bit his cheeks, dimples forming on the sides. He was right. "Klingons obtain more honor in the midst of war."

Jim wasn't shocked by what he saw in Spock. "You want to go after them." Any person with a beating heart would feel the same.

"The ones that might be expecting their return could scour the area, leading back to us. It would be reckless to pursue them since they left without discovering the base. The risk is too high. We cannot attract another group." Spock stepped away again, panting hard. He already thought about this – no denial in his comments. "You said it yourself. Camp Salvatus was a result of self-defense. To leave our base, with our weapons, to follow their path, would turn us into executioners, Jim."

Jim shut his mouth. Spock told him that Vulcan teachings dictate that one should be slow to take a life. One should not harm, no matter how much they are or have been harmed themselves.

"Something tells me that you and council have decided on this before. Anastasia didn't seem to agree. At least not anymore …"

Spock's chest rose and fell, his eyes closing for a brief moment. "She never did. She follows Markus and I out of respect. I once informed you that you were the only survivor we have discovered in three hundred and seventy-two days. Three hundred and seventy-three days prior to meeting you, Markus and I found another survivor."

Instead of blurting out _'Who?'_ Jim listened intently.

"Our intention was to invite him to the base – From what Markus and I could deduce, he was a non-threatening, respectful person. I could not obtain more information with a touch. My ability to see an individual's true nature was one that was long lost to me. Jim, I had to depend on this ability of a 'gut feeling' when it is still entirely foreign to translate and utilize."

Spock began to unwrap his hands, the bandages trickling to the floor like snakes that danced to the music used to call them. Now that Jim knew that those digits were particularly sensitive, he concluded that this exercise of Spock's had to be extremely painful, unlike a full human. He was grateful that it ended.

He would endeavor to make sure Spock never did it again.

"Terrence informed us that there was a storm approaching. I was aware of it, the distinctive odor catching my attention. Before we could ask for this individual's name, we noticed that the changing weather heightened the smell of burnt wood. He was the source of it. We refrained from our queries because he was in a state of anxiety, thankful for our arrival."

Jim noticed that Spock wasn't saying a name. Something alarming must have happened.

"We brought him into the vehicle, and before I started the engine – he began to ask of our opinions of the 'end of the world' as he expressed. We provided a simple answer, stating that we were unaware. Following his path of questions, we then asked him of how the events affected him and why he was where we found him." Spock sighed, wiping the very sheer sweat on his forehead with his wrist. "He declared that the lights were a punishment of the humans' _deviance_. Wanting more of an elaboration, Markus provided one false comment, agreeing to the illogical belief. This lie provided the survivor an opening of confessing to every kill he experienced in the hands of the humans. He spoke of all six of them with _satisfaction_."

The hiss of the word showed Jim of Spock's state of mind. The Chief must have wanted to kill the man then and there.

"As I think about it today, I am not certain of what my actions would have been in that moment. I never had the opportunity to find out since Markus struck him unconscious."

Spock began to shake his head, gazing at the ceiling as if the computer or sky would give him some answers.

"We blindfolded him. Markus insisted that we shoot him and throw him out like garbage. Terrence was conducting the surveillance during the mission, and he expressed that we should kill the man as well. He saw our faces. He saw our vehicle and the direction we came from. Conflicted in my thoughts, I brought him to the base for deliberation, unable to remain outdoors a moment longer."

The lights would have gotten to them, and if they never made in time – they would have been stuck outside all night.

"With our return, the early lockdown was two minutes from commencing – the storm enabling the lights' quick return. On our way to the storage room, the base noticed the new company, their queries naturally increasing. We were held with an immediate disadvantage when he woke up, yelling ' _sympathizers'_. I could not render him unconscious in time. The reaction was … I have never seen the base act in such a manner. Like a lamb, they dragged him into the center of the cafeteria."

"They didn't …"

"They wanted to." Spock interjected. "To control the situation, I silenced them and then informed them of our discoveries, omitting the graphic details. I would be insulting their intellect by hiding who the man was. His one and only word was explanation enough, hence their actions. It turned into a vicious trial – the chanting of 'judge him' ringing in my ears. Anastasia and Markus did not speak. They did not show their opinions because they knew it was against my beliefs. Who was I to kill him? He was feeble, weak and incapable of hurting me. He did not attack us, only sought out aid."

Jim could see that the story was just as straining to Spock as those punches he did moments before.

"I warned them that this heinous act would be the beginning of many and would change the foundation of our environment, turning us into the very people we hide from. The very people who have brought us to ruin."

The turn the other cheek philosophy was what prevented Spock from doing what they wanted. Jim didn't trust himself enough because he looked in the mirror every day and knew exactly who he was.

Seeing that Ferengi male judged was just another reminder. Logically, it would be risky to attract attention – nevertheless, he wanted to just make those men in the footage pay. Jim didn't want to kill them – just injure them so they would be witness to the colors swirling in the sky … or the cougars.

He planned it in his head in gory detail as they drove away. If he were in the base back then, he would have wanted to chant with the rest during the trial, however just like Markus and Anastasia; he instantly acknowledged that he wouldn't have. He would have kept quiet, ready to follow whatever Spock chose.

"Our prisoner woke up in distraught as he heard the chants that demanded for his execution. Ironically, he said that he did not wish to die."

Jim's scoff came so fast, he couldn't stop it.

The sound of disgust was one that Spock soon followed with his own. "I approached him, and before I took off the blindfold … I let him shake in the undetermined screams – unaware of his future. I made him wait, just as the others have made their prey wait on sticks and trees."

Everyone was somewhat tainted in this world. Spock should have been more than him – more than anyone else here. He was not surprised by Spock's actions of taunting intermission.

"With his eyes open, I pulled back my hair to reveal my ears and the end of my brows."

The revelation must have been bittersweet.

"I did not expect to obtain satisfaction from his jittering fear, from his crumbling expression of realization that he would soon die, just like all his previous victims. A part of me wanted to shed my own blood to show him exactly what I was, Jim." Spock confessed in disgust. "That complete satisfaction … I feared it. I feared what it could become, a vicious cancer overtaking my already damaged mind. I could not entertain it any further."

He expected as much. "…You let him go." It was the only thing that could have been done.

Spock nodded. "My decision was final. If the man could survive in the outside world alone, he could continue as such. He was blindfolded and safely returned in a farther destination. For the first time, I disappointed them – only a select few agreeing with me. I refused to judge him as he judged others."

And Warehouse 15 did not judge.

That could have been him and Spock not long ago. He fully expected to wake up in fire when he was suffocated under a wet, heavy cloth. Instead, he woke up in the base walls with Spock sleeping across from him.

Jim could see what he was becoming. This world … it had turned him ruthless. He didn't want to infect Spock. This base was built with the intention that in order to get peace, one must give it. If Spock were anything like him, then everything around him would have never been possible.

"You did the right thing, Spock."

"You do not believe that."

The sureness in Spock's tone hit him hard.

"What I sometimes want, and what needs to be done, are completely different elements, and you know it." He carefully added. "He would have endangered the base if you kept him. He would have attempted to hurt you. He could have lit the whole place up. I admit, the concept of educating these people are beyond us, especially when they're so scared. They're terrified, Spock. Shit, we're terrified. You couldn't reason with him, so he couldn't stay. You did the only thing you could."

Spock covered his mouth with his wrist and exhaled. "He could have murdered another soon after."

"He could have." Jim agreed with a frown. "He also could have died by natural causes, or he could have turned into a better person, isolated in his own protective environment of memory foam and chocolate. You can't know – it's not your responsibility to know, and you can't save everyone. You're better than all of us. People care for you and respect you. Being a leader sometimes mean doing things for the better, occasionally leading to disappointment. You and I both know that things wouldn't be as they are if you killed a man in front of them – the officers that respect you, the concerned citizens, mothers, fathers, those pesky teenagers and the fragile children."

His brows furrowed at he shifted his gaze back to Spock. He placed his palms under Spock's hands, lifting them up to inspect the greener knuckles. "They were overshadowed by emotion. Not only did you save yourself – you saved them by making sure they weren't a part of something they would have regretted. Death isn't a game of tit-and-tat. They would have felt the consequences sooner or later."

With their contact, he allowed this path to reveal confirmation of his words.

"We both know that people like that didn't start out horrible. They were brainwashed and manipulated. Gigi herself was in the Academy."

Spock winced at the revelation. "A cadet?"

"Second year. The leader of the camp got to her. You have that same power, but you did what many others failed to do."

"A proper leader would have eliminated him behind the scenes, and returned as if nothing changed – taking away the burden of those at home."

"You and I both know you aren't a hypocrite. That was my condition for coming here remember? You were being a good person. You _are_ a good person." He added, inspecting the digits some more. "Damn it. Your hands, Spock."

"The pain is tolerable." Spock said after he cleared his throat.

"No … this punching … after what I now know is unacceptable, Spock."

"Unacceptable?"

_Yes!_

"I get that it's your therapy, but come to me from now on. More meditation maybe – a jog within permissible range – we can get our adrenaline racing and join the base activities. Teach the kids self defense with Clayton maybe? Put those kicks of yours to use. I'll even do fucking yoga with you – it's incredibly relaxing, but I'm sure you tried it – "

"Our game." Spock quickly answered.

Spock didn't mean what Jim thought he meant.

"…what?"

"I desire to continue with our stories." Spock clarified. "I shared mine's last. It is now your turn."

Spock just wanted to hear him talk. He looked at Spock for a quick moment, and decided that he would think of the longest story he could. Jim walked ahead, leading Spock with him. They sunk down to the floor, and shoulder-to-shoulder, they sat.

"Okay." He patted Spock's knee. "Once upon a time, at the stupid age of sixteen, James took up the dumbest dare of his life."

**.**

**.**

**.**

Jim thought long and hard that night. When him and Spock connected their minds together for meditation after another scouting, Jim merged them into one memory he occasionally revisited.

He was younger, but it was only by four years this time. Spock looked down at his own body before glancing at Jim with a questioning stare.

 _"I am not in uniform."_ Spock was in casual black attire with a grey, almost silver shall over his shoulders.

 _"You still have the haircut though."_ Jim pointed out, smiling as he patted Spock's head. It was odd – he was fully aware of his situation instead of before, just repeating the memory. He was inside his own body. He was the driver this time.

Spock noticed it too. _"Where are we, Jim?"_

They were once again in an empty field, but there were no purple petals to be found. There were three concrete steps ahead of them, leading to a house.

 _"Earth, Spock."_ He smiled, pointing to door ahead. _"And that's where I was raised."_

The burgundy door opened, presenting a woman with wavy ashy blonde hair and a thin frame. She covered the light from penetrating her eyes, putting a shadow over her pointy, thin nose. _"You're late, Jim!"_

Spock's lips parted – Jim could swear Spock was a second away from gaping at his mom.

 _"That's my mom, Winona Davis."_ He informed Spock. By this time, she returned to her original surname. A wave of nostalgia punched his gut as he stared at her face. Truth was, he missed her … and she was dead.

He walked up the steps and gave her a hug, Spock one step behind. _"Sorry."_

_"I taught you better manners than that."_

Just by hugging her, and her warm smile reaching his heart, he knew he was manipulating the memory. It made him realize that it could have all been better if he just acted differently.

Spock continued to stare at her, not bothering to introduce himself. There wasn't a point.

 _"Sam's here, right?"_ Jim asked.

 _"He's setting up the table. I swear being up in space made him forget how that's done."_ She said, turning to Spock shortly after.

 _"Jim – "_ Spock moved his head closer to Jim's side. _"Your mother is looking directly at me."_

 _"I sure am, young man."_ Winona answered back to him, making both men flinch back.

 _"Uhh."_ Jim was speechless. He wasn't expecting this.

_"Are you going to introduce me to your … Vulcan friend."_

_"Uhh, yeah – this is Spock."_ Jim cleared his throat. _"My … my boyfriend."_

Spock instantly lifted a brow. God, it was the first time he said that. It sounded so … immature.

_"Greetings, Ms. Davis."_

_"Call me Winona, Spock"_ She looked between them. _"Sorry, it's just … Jim never told me he was bringing someone. Frankly, I'm surprised he even came."_

 _"I was the one who insisted ma'am."_ Spock said before Jim could utter a word. _"It is imperative that one meets the family of their significant other."_

Her jaw slightly fell. _"I like you already! I know that's a Vulcan thing, 'cause Lord knows people don't bother with that kind of thing anymore."_

His childish whine was ready to come out. _"Mom – "_

 _"Show Spock around the house, hun."_ She moved to the side, gesturing for them to come in after her not so subtle order.

Jim and Spock quickly exchanged a look and walked inside the wood and brick home. The design was very twenty first century, except for the kitchen. Everything in the kitchen looked like it came directly from a Starbase.

 _"This is not a mere projection of your memories."_ Spock said in a low voice. _"You are manipulating this."_

 _"Virtual reality, Spock."_ Jim was satisfied at the outcome. The only flaw was that, he would now have to explain how he met Spock without the 'hostile alien invasion' twist. _"You have to find this fascinating."_

 _"Indeed, I do. I can only wonder if I am capable of this."_ Spock stopped in his steps to analyzing a painting of a daisy.

Jim went after him and held Spock's arm, pulling him closer and away from inspecting every single detail of the memory. _"You get to meet the family."_

Introducing Sam to Spock was the most awkward and interesting thing so far. Sam kept whispering 'Commander Spock – The Commander Spock'

After the initial shock, things became easier. Spock was an impeccable houseguest, offering his mom some help around the kitchen – he had no problems with rolling his sleeves up and taking the warm biscuits from the oven.

Jim just rested his head on his palm with a permanent smile on his face. Spock almost dropped the bowl the heated bread when he caught Jim staring. Spock just gave him a knowing squint as he settled in his seat next Jim.

Things got weird after that. If he could manipulate this memory, then why couldn't he get rid of the awkward questions that ensued?

 _"I actually took a tour of the Academy."_ Jim started on the bullshit. Okay ... it was more of a fantasy of how he wished he met Spock - Anything that didn't include guns and fire. _"I bumped into him, and we started talking from there."_

Sam pouted at them. _"I hope he didn't do a cheesy pick up line, Mr. Spock."_

Jim tossed an olive at him. _"I happen to have some decency."_

 _"That all sounds so simple."_ Winona blurted out.

 _"Sometimes all that is required is a simple feeling for something life altering to occur."_ Spock replied. _"It is unfortunate that simplicity is often taken for granted."_

Jim wondered if Spock would have really said that if this weren't a memory, cause … _fuck_. His face was too naked for this, exposing his flushed cheeks.

Winona smiled ear to ear. _"I don't know how, but that sounded really romantic. I bet you got that from your mother, Mr. Spock."_

 _"That's not nice. He could have got it from his dad."_ Sam interjected. _"Wait, did Jim meet your parents yet?"_

 _"They currently reside on Vulcan, however I plan for them to become well acquainted."_ Spock answered with certainty.

Winona pointed between them. _"How will they feel about … this?"_

Jim's shoulders got tenser as they discussed him while he was present.

_"I am confident that they will not only accept him, but also be just as fond of him as I am."_

The rest of the dinner consisted of Spock and Sam talking about the differences of living in a Starbase and a Starship, with his mom giving him funny looks here and there. He grinned with biscuit filled cheeks, and asked her to come into the kitchen. When alone, he gave her the tightest hug he could, wishing that he didn't have to let go. Her frame against his was a foreign sensation. Has it been that long since he hugged her?

The hug would have felt warmer if he just grew the fuck up.

_I hope you're resting in peace, mom._

Soon after, the memory faded into another scene of red sand and fireflies.

Jim wiped his face. _"This is like an acid trip."_ He commented while trying to get rid of the nostalgia.

 _"Welcome to my home."_ Spock deeply breathed in the Vulcan air, gazing at the house Jim's already seen before.

The door opened with an older version of Spock's mom waiting outside.

It was late evening, so the only way he saw her face was by the dim lights reflecting on her face from above the door. Spock whispered that they were not in danger, noticing Jim's apprehension by being under the dark sky.

That was all he needed to calm down.

_"Who's out there?"_

Spock and Jim took large strides to the door and stopped right in front of Amanda. She clung onto her shall with wide eyes.

 _"Spock?"_ Her mouth was open with shock. _"You know I hate surprises."_

She suddenly stepped back, her words getting caught in her throat at the sight of Jim.

Holy shit, she could see him this time.

Jim gulped in his spot. _"Hello, ma'am."_

It was as if she saw a Klingon in her own yard. She moved closer to take in a better look. Her dress swayed as she moved, and then she lifted her hand up – turning Jim's face side-to-side.

_"You're not in uniform."_

Jim let out an undignified snort that manifested from his firing nerves. _"So I've heard."_

_"Mother, this is James Kirk."_

_"Kirk, Kirk, … sounds familiar."_ She tapped a finger on her lips. _"George Kirk's son?"_

 _"Correct."_ Spock answered.

She lightly shook her head, a smile showing on her face. _"Would I be dreaming if I guessed that this was a casual visit?"_

Jim didn't dare answer. Soon, Spock's inched closer to him, and switched his gaze from him to Amanda in a way that couldn't be taken as anything other than romantic.

Just when Jim thought her eyes couldn't get wider, they did, with a toothy smile along with it.

 _"Wow."_ She blurted out, bug-eyed. _"Wow."_

 _"Is that a good 'Wow', or a bad 'Wow'?"_ Jim gathered the courage to say.

 _"It is a good 'Wow'."_ Spock nodded, holding Jim's wrist closer – avoiding his fingers.

Jim got the subtle meaning that Spock would never do that in front of his mom. It made him question what was acceptable as public displays of affection on Vulcan.

 _"Definitely a good 'Wow', James."_ She laughed. _"I'm sorry. Two minutes into this, and I lost my manners. Come in, I'll take your jacket. Sorry to say I don't have air conditioning – "_ She rambled as they walked inside the huge home _." – after living on Vulcan for so long, your body just adapts to the temperature."_

 _"It's okay, ma'am – I'm already used to it."_ And by that, he meant he'd been sleeping in Spock's room too many nights to count.

Spock gave Jim a quick glance as he walked, distinguishing the light mischief.

_"I can only imagine what Spock had to go through to get you here. It's the hardest planet to gain access to."_

The way Spock's eyes softened as he stared at his mother was definitely a sight Jim would remember for as long as he was alive. _"I assure you, it was not a complicated task."_

Jim snickered; hiding it the second Amanda raised a brow at him.

 _"I'm sure you're starving, James."_ Amanda guessed. _"It's late, but I have some soup leftover. I'll whip up something simple on the side."_

 _"That would be delightful."_ He smiled.

As Amanda trailed a few steps ahead of them, Spock whispered. _"Technically you have not eaten, but the satiated sensation must have transferred from your memory."_

_"Spock, when you're in someone's house, you accept the food."_

Spock pondered on that. _"I require further explanation."_

Jim sighed, finding this incredibly adorable. _"Manners."_

 _"You could politely decline if manners were your concern."_ Spock answered. _"My mother would understand."_

Jim shook his head. _"You have a lot to learn."_ He chuckled. _"If my memory came second, then you would have been in a world of trouble if you denied food from my mom."_

Spock gave Jim a quick tour, just like he did for Spock. Every room apparently obtained a specific purpose, and the study room was Jim's favorite. It was designed so perfectly, Jim could file reports in it all day.

It consisted of rich browns and black linings. He fell onto one of the enlarged couches, refusing to get off.

 _"If Starfleet ever comes, I'm moving here."_ Earth wasn't an option anymore.

Spock stood straight; glancing between Jim and the open door as if afraid his mom would come any second. _"Or we could simply obtain our own home."_

 _"As charming as that idea sounds, I'm afraid I have to decline with this one. In fact … Can I get a mattress delivered to one of those rooms?"_ Jim faked a loud snore right after, pretending to be asleep.

That was Spock's last straw, if him dragging Jim out of the room was any sign.

Once they reached the main hallway, Spock halted in his steps to appreciate the patterns on the walls of a home he obviously missed. Jim took some time to do the same, but it was not the walls - It was Spock's appearance. This memory wasn't like before when he was a kid. He wasn't stuck inside, playing an abused recording. Here and now, he could take in the Spock he would have met if they did actually bump into the other in the Academy.

This was Spock's default look. Whereas Spock would be in the darkest of colors with edged coats, these new clothes were bigger on him – nothing like his tight ones back at the base. The shirt Spock was currently wearing included a grey shall over his shoulders and a black turtleneck.

With Spock's traditional cut, exposing all of his features without shame, he looked extremely magnetizing.

 _"You are staring again."_ Spock pointed out. He stated it as if he was stating the weather forecast.

Jim tsked. _"So sue me."_

After much pestering back and forth, Jim sat across from Amanda with his dinner.

They both explained the same story to her, and she listened with eager ears – urging for more details. Surprisingly, they filled in each other's blanks easily. Spock was apparently the one helping him integrate with the Academy after they supposedly met.

 _"Answer this query for me, mother."_ Spock cleared his throat with a quick shift in his seat. _"Why is it vital for a guest to accept the food the host offers during visitation, especially when the guest does not require sustenance?"_

Amanda sucked in her bottom lip as if holding in a laugh.

 _"I really like the soup, and I did want some."_ Jim spoke out. _"I just told Spock here that even though we ate not long ago, if I was not hungry, I would have still said yes."_

 _"Oh, Spock."_ Amanda tsked, shaking her head. _"It's just another stupid Earth custom. Some hosts think it's rude when you decline. Just as it's rude to not offer as a host, which we do here too."_

_"Most illogical."_

_"And I love James here with his illogical Earth home training."_ She smiled at him. _"But don't worry about me, James. I'll live."_

The compliment rushed through him. He genuinely was happy that she liked him. He first thought she would like him because Spock liked him. This was Spock's memory.

Jim soon discovered that with this memory and his own, the people kept true to their character. His mother did.

He decided to become optimistic, ultimately deciding that Amanda Grayson sincerely liked him.

 _"My mother is very keen on manners."_ He responded with a grin.

 _"It clearly rubbed off on you."_ She pursed her lips. _"So, I have to ask – I already know you two are serious, since Spock brought you here. Also, I trust my son's judgment. All that's left to say is – When do you intend to become bond mates? I refuse to call my husband without that particular detail."_

_Bond mates?_

_"We are still discus – "_

_"Soon."_ Jim said with the butterflies fighting in his guts. If his yearning for this bridge to be fully accessible on both ends was called 'bond mates' – then he knew he wanted it. _"Really soon."_

Amanda was a human herself with Earth customs under her belt. For her to say bond mates, instead of marriage made him think that maybe, just maybe it was the same thing.

Or maybe it was more.

 _"You seem excited."_ Amanda noticed, scanning Jim's entire demeanor.

One glance at a flustered Spock, and he concluded that it was indeed more.

He couldn't have replied fast enough. _"That's because I am."_

**.**

**.**

**.**

After they woke up from the joint dream, the morning should have been filled with whispers of endearment and kisses, but Spock ran away from Jim's questions. Not literally, but he had a feeling that, that portion would come very soon.

"Another time, Jim." Was the first thing Spock uttered after one exchanged look with Jim, recognizing the undeniable turn this conversation was going.

"So what? Are you going to disappear in the Security room all day with Terrence to avoid me?" This was it. He was officially the attention-deprived housewife. "We just did the whole 'meet-the-parents' thing for Christ's sake. I've never done that, and from your mom's face, you sure as hell haven't either."

Spock sat up, facing the wall – his back extremely stiff. "I do not deliberately avoid you." He said has he tore off his shirt before opening up to his small drawers.

Jim placed his weight on his elbows, watching Spock change his clothes with swiftness as if ready to ditch any moment. "Liar." He wished it were still lockdown.

"I just … I require more time." Spock bent down to retrieve his boots on the side corner.

That wasn't an acceptable answer. "You can talk to me, Spock. Do you just not want this?"

Spock stopped his movements so abruptly – Jim's mind replaced the silence with a screeching halt.

"Because then I would get it." Jim croaked out when he sat up. "I admit, in human terms – this is fast, although I don't see the point in waiting."

"Jim." Spock glanced up, moving towards Jim by placing both palms on the bed, each side of Jim's lap.

Jim didn't bother to maneuver to a more comfortable position. Spock had him locked in place with his stare.

"I want you more than I have ever wanted anything." Spock finished, a wave of relief running through Jim.

At least he wasn't delusional.

"Then what is it? Am I just over my head here?" Jim drew his hands away from the sheets, placing his palms of Spock's warm cheeks as he looked directly into those dark irises. "If you'd just take a moment to explain this to me properly, then – "

Spock inched back so fast, one would guess Jim's touch burned him. "It is irreversible."

Not news. "I realized that on my own, Spock." He uttered, authoritative in his tone. "This isn't a joke to me."

Spock turned away, exhaling to the side while he placed a strand of hair behind those usually hidden ears. "You and I already share a profound bond that developed naturally, however it could be removed with time. Our compatibility makes you the perfect mate on Vulcan terms, but to initiate a complete bond to mate us for life would result in consequences, and I do not feel comfortable with the burden it would place on you."

"What consequences?" Jim rose up, prowling closer. "Why do I feel this … _pull_ if there are consequences? Will it _hurt_ me?"

"Yes." Spock hissed out the stinging word.

Okay … this wasn't going to be easy. This was just another obstacle he was ready to conquer. It was naïve and gullible at the first thought, he knew that. Regardless, he was more than prepared to make the first step.

"Tell me." He said, not showing an ounce of fear. "You'll accept this once I fully understand what it is I want. Tell me, Spock."

Spock's was dead silent, blinking at Jim in a subtly surprised manner.

Was Spock expecting him to run away? There was nothing to feed such an absurd idea. They slept in the same bed, they shared dreams and fears, and he sure as hell hoped that Spock had inkling of how much he loved him by now. Why did he have to get information from Spock by grabbing a needle from a life sucking sinkhole?

"A ripped bond could result in emotional imbalance, immense pain, chronic fatigue, _depression_ \- which alone could potentially add another set of complications – "

Jim inhaled with a snap of his lips. "You just said it was irreversible."

"This would occur if one of us were to _die_ , Jim."

Attempting to keep his running emotions in check, Jim stood still, searching Spock's face for some more answers. Spock was – _Shit,_ Spock was serious. "That's … that's not happening – " He said with absolute certainty. Nothing would happen to Spock under his watch, and he knew that feeling was reciprocated.

"How can you promise me that?" Spock narrowed his eyes, brows knitting together with his frown. "This whole planet wishes for my demise."

Jim's gut fell into a deep pit, affected by the poisonous thought.

Spock ripped Jim's hands away with a light grip, letting them drop down. "Did we not witness that in disturbing detail yesterday?"

Spock turned on his heel and exited the room, leaving Jim in dead, agonizing silence.

**.**

**.**

**.**

The raging fire in the empty field brightened the white, crisp room – branding everything inside, including Leonard's uniform … including all their minds.

"This isn't real, Dr. Kim." He sharply reminded the shaking doctor. The hypocrisy of his statement was loud and clear to him and M'Benga. He did heave his stomach contents not long ago.

This SIM add-on was nothing but pixels.

This whole SIM was nothing but pixels.

And when Spock spoke of that man he tried to take in during Round One, Leonard had to remember that it was just another test – one that Spock succeeded in.

Everything would return to some form of normality, no matter if it were as fake as the faux fur coats in this day and age.

The other team members patted Dr. Kim's back, reminding her of that very fact. They've seen people die before; it's just that some of them reacted differently with each death.

Dr. Kim was one of them.

They all took oaths to save lives. Instead, they were the audience of so many deaths, the lives they saved and would save in their careers would never compensate for it.

_It's not real … It's not real … It's not real._

Content with Spock and Jim's readings, he concentrated on the SIM in front of him once more. Spock and Jim woke up arguing, probably from one of those dream things they did that no one could see.

It was inconvenient, but ultimately a blessing. Those two were already naked enough - In every way.

_"We just did the whole 'meet-the-parents' thing for Christ's sake."_

A couple gasps were heard around him. He really hoped that didn't mean what they thought it meant, because from what he heard – Jim thought his mother dead, and Spock thought his mother alive.

Both were …wrong, and they would realize it when they woke up.

Ah hell, that was a new level of fucked up.

It deserved its own name.

_"You can talk to me, Spock. Do you just not want this?"_

"What on Earth are they talking about?" Leonard blurted out, annoyed that the meaning in those words that were only obvious to Spock and Jim.

After his initial happiness that the two weren't killed after their nightly scouts, his curiosity and concern peaked to heightened levels. Just like that night when they both collapsed after a dream, their conversations were a dang puzzle.

M'Benga placed his PADD to the side and patted his growing scruff – he was just as overworked as McCoy. "They're not talking about something good."

The others turned to M'Benga with confused faces.

Dr. Lee deduced it. "The Captain wants to do what Lt. Grayensha tried to do."

Leonard hid his face under his palms, holding in his highly unprofessional scream. He'd do it when he inevitable kicked everyone out again.

"They're not …" Dr. Kim shook her head. "That's … just no. The psychological trauma that would ensue … just no."

For people with multiple degrees, there were too many moments in when they couldn't find their words, let alone articulate them.

M'Benga sucked in his lips, looking closer to the SIM Spock. "I'm afraid so, however it seems that Commander Spock is against it."

And Spock was, and his reasoning pierced through everyone's heart, no matter how much they tried to hide it. With the art of obliviousness under their belt, they all went back to work, getting ready to begin their last report.

If Leonard stabbed at his PADD screen a little harder than necessary, no one commented on it.

_"Did we not witness that in disturbing detail yesterday?"_

"The Commander still fears for his life?"

Spock would say that fear of death was illogical. He could see that Spock never actually feared of his own death in the SIM, but of the consequences his death would bring on those he cared for. If Spock were to ever be hurt, and/or be judged by someone … anyone … His foundation, his teachings would be flushed down the toilet. Spock first feared for his death when he found Warehouse 15.

In the previous round, Spock was definitely not prepared to die, and that was because Jim was in the room with him.

This level of fucked up finally gained a name.

Leonard turned to all of them "He never stopped, just not for the reasons you think."

And it was called THE SIMULATION.

**.**

**.**

**.**

"Ensign Jessica Birney, are you aware of the reasoning behind your presence here today?"

"…I don't believe so."

The recent graduate was part of the first class eligible for the SIM program. She didn't take it yet, however she was selected for the SIM operating team because of her programming skills and recommendations.

Archer praised her work. In fact, she was insistent to join the team … and now he knew why. He remained quiet and carefully watched, seeing his colleagues around him grill her out of her professional demeanor.

After the initial call, he looked into her records. Instantly, he felt like he knew everything about her. He knew why she was here at least.

"Commander Tinibu is under the belief that the glitches within the SIM of Commander Spock and Captain Kirk are of your doing."

The tight coils of her raven hair were brushed back in a tight bun, her shoulders straight and head up. The accusation didn't faze her, especially when a person of this age would shake at being in a room with them. "I assure you, we cleaned up the SIM add-ons. The improvements in the 'Karim' formula speak for itself."

"What about the 'Zack' formula?"

She finally blinked her big eyes, eyelashes fluttering for a brief moment. "Pardon?"

"Someone implanted that story. Did you think we would be so oblivious to your sneaky tactics?"

"Our order was to implement a story to fill in the scene that the add-ons have created for themselves. We could not have facilitated such a response when we temporarily eliminated the SIM weapons."

"Let's review this story then." Lui cleared her throat to begin. "Underground operatives. Sacrifices. A facility where the organization could view these so called sacrifices. The character of this unnamed 'shy girl' succeeding in overthrowing this organization. The elimination of these rituals. The exposure of it all. Need I say more?"

…That was a mouthful. The others were lucky to even catch that scene since no alarms went off.

"Permission to speak freely?"

Archer nodded to her – this was the only acknowledgment he showed the ensign, still keeping quiet.

"I will not apologize if you feel that this relates to the reality we have become. A true horror story."

And that was what he was looking for.

One of them stood up. "Excuse me?"

"Have you heard of the term, _'If the shoe fits?'_ Perhaps you are angered by a simple story because you see yourselves in it as the villains that need to be removed." Her upper lip twitched, the rest of her face blank from what Archer could conclude as strong will. This was a younger mind, the future of Starfleet. She was the reflection of the whispers behind the wall. Instead of hiding, she actively joined to manipulate it.

And not just anyone's.

The commanding team of the USS Enterprise. Archer had to commend her. If she was to hit something, it had to be something big.

"I have partaken in the program of twelve individual SIMs, and two joint ones during my shifts. When considering only the Enterprise, then you must know that the SIM of Lieutenant Hikaru Sulu was the beginning of the worst. It was sadistic. It was sick. It was nowhere similar to Lieutenant Nyota Uhura's SIM. Her program was quick, efficient, reached all the standards for new data. It was exactly how the rest should have been. You have blatantly disregarded this formula and continued with the slightly altered one from the past."

"You're being deluded, ensign."

"None of you have visited the Operations room, nor have you seen us at work. You sit here and watch this, not understanding the work it takes to make sure everything blends together. Therefore, you cannot speak of these matters."

"The severity of this SIM is not on us."

Archer had to hold in the urge to roll his eyes. It didn't matter his age. The gesture was a telling one, and he was calling buffoonery.

"But you must have expected it." She clenched her teeth. "We wondered why Commander Spock and Captain Kirk created this dystopian environment for us to work with. We assumed that with the Commander's mind, his vision took priority – perhaps his deep-rooted issues and life experiences derived from his physiology, hence the alien sacrifices, but apparently there was more than that." Jessica's tone of accusation was not lost on Archer. "Why would The Commander simulate an environment where Starfleet abandoned the planet? We all wondered why. Starfleet was very active in trying to prevent the implosion of Vulcan. Then we find out about Captain Kirk."

Surprisingly, they let her speak. Jessica noticed the silence and continued, taking advantage of her platform.

"We have warned you of the problems that would arise when merging two minds, especially two separate brains that didn't even work the same. You didn't listen. You knew Captain Kirk was part of the _Miracle Nine_ , and you let that get carelessly mixed with another mind that just experienced the biggest tragedy of our time."

Jessica snorted right after. "The Enterprise will be lucky to function as it did before. Chief Engineer Montgomery Scott, who's opinion is the defining line between life and death on the ship, cannot trust his own gut anymore because of his SIM."

Nensi scratched the side of his nose, his frown still deep as frowns could go. "Did he approach you with this?"

"I have eyes. That's all I need." She raised a brow. Her posture was so identical to Commander Spock's, it made Archer wonder if she even took her breaks. She must have been glued to the SIM. "It's clear that there is a bias within the senior staff of every ship, especially the First Officers and its Captains and the aliens that are positioned in it. What you all have done to Lt. Grayensha was cruel. I suggested deleting the 'Frank' formula when we realized her attachment to him, but again – you didn't listen. And now, the Commander is enduring the same, if not worse."

I was worse because she couldn't delete Captain Kirk.

"Perhaps your father, Commander Juriah Birney couldn't handle his SIM, hence your _bias_ opinion." Nensi crossed his arms.

"My father has served Starfleet for eleven years. Do not disrespect him by calling him weak when you are amongst the generation that has been spared of this." Jessica cocked her head to Nensi, all signs of respect removed. "You are the weak ones."

Archer wanted to wave his hand to direct some wind to his face. The tension was too thick, choking him. It was fortunate that the others would soon arrive, thus taking over of the USS Xavier's SIM. They were arriving from Starbase One and Tellar Prime.

"Do not speak for me." Nensi spat. "I didn't say that. Those are your words."

"Getting back to the point …" Komack abruptly stood up and approached the ensign, looking down at her – using his height to his advantage. "Are you admitting to tampering, ensign?"

"You think we're scared of you." She looked up, not batting an eye. "You're just people who have started an issue and decided to punish us for your mistakes." She said as she gestured towards the empty chair that once belonged Marcus.

"Your point?!" Komack's shout should have made her flinch.

She didn't. "My point is that you will be shut down. This is not an if, but a when, and I have planted the egg inside the most influential people – the people that have saved our planet and are loved by the civilians as much as officers." She sneered, unclasping her hands from her back. "So, yes. I did it on purpose, and I don't care of the consequences, because I'll sit back and watch this crumble on your old faces."

**.**

**.**

**.**

The day continued with ease. Jim reunited with Bud and Karim, hugging the crying teenager as he cursed enough for the both of them about the sick world that they were in. Karim spoke about how he was now at a point that he was actually glad that his parents never had to see this. They wouldn't have been able to stand what Mankind had become. Karim's parents died in the second attack. Their ashes were a part of the many that coated the planet.

"Spock told me about the trial." Jim said in the silent room. "If I even want to call it that."

The kid stiffened, and inched away from Jim. "That day was … Dude – that day was out of a pre-warp documentary. Savages."

"Our people?"

"Honestly, I don't think they meant it. Chief told us to never bring it up again, and I can think of a thousand reasons why. He made his decision when everyone craved for blood."

"What're their opinions now, because from what I see – They would have never done that."

"That's because you see us isolated from the past. We all went through shit, James. Imagine all that shit being thrust in your face in the form of one skinny, ignorant guy? They thought that his death would bring back the death of their loved ones."

"Most of this base were for alien rights prior to meeting Spock, I'm assuming."

"Fuck yeah, man! If the lights didn't get ya, those insane fucks did because of your opinions. They had the audacity to call it illegal even though there's no law." Karim snarled, his nostrils flaring. "Chief did something that needed to be done, otherwise the whole base would have regretted it. The only people I can think of that wouldn't have regretted it is Anastasia and Terrence, because they wanted the creep's head. Markus was kinda hesitant, but he's been ordered to kill before this event took place. He might have seen it as a job that needed to be done to prevent more deaths. Steven agreed with Chief of course."

"It was havoc, wasn't it?" Jim tsked.

"Did Chief tell you that the creep said he didn't want to die?!" Karim blurted out, the memories making him furious. " _Please, don't kill me. I'm just trying to survive everyday – just like you guys. God, please don't kill me."_

That echoed quote made Jim shiver. "You didn't chant _'judge him'_ , did you?"

Karim shrugged after a moment. "… I wanted to. But then I realized that my momma would have slapped me with her shoe, and papa would have grabbed my ear. ' _I didn't raise a filthy killer, Karim! It is wrong. It is against God. Did you breathe life? No? Then no taking it away!'_ " He quoted with a thick Middle Eastern accent. "I couldn't handle the Chief hating me too. He's all I have left. I'd follow him to the lights, dude. He's … he's just something that shouldn't exist in this shit world."

Jim couldn't agree more.

At 0800 the council dressed in their fur coats and went out into the daylight to see if their hypothesis of the lights arriving during the day was true. Even though they were out the night before, it wasn't a harm to check again.

They also wanted to grab some things.

 _"Is it optimistic to say that I think the lights are permanently gone?"_ Steven said in their ears.

 _"I don't think so. Sneaky little things."_ Terrence added.

Steven rebutted. " _Maybe our prayers were answered."_

Markus' voice rang, vibrating all the eardrums. "God's a little too late, Steven!"

Spock yanked out his earpiece, gritting his teeth at the ex-Marine. "I will remind you that my hearing is highly sensitive, so if you will refrain from unnecessarily _screaming_ in my ear Markus – "

Terrence and Steven moaned in pain, talking back and forth on how Markus' yell bled their ears too.

Ana gave Markus a snarl, shaking her head with clear disappointment while rubbing under her ear.

Jim wanted to reach out and see if Spock was okay, but he refrained from coddling the Chief in front of them. It wouldn't have looked great.

"Shit." Markus did a little apologetic smile. "Momentary lapse of memory, Chief."

Spock looked away, placing the piece back in his ear; all while his jaw was clenched from the pain.

They all moved forward with their weapons. Markus refused to stay in the truck because they were going through the buildings again and it was daylight. Worst-case scenario, someone would have to cover them.

Markus didn't want them alone when a person or two could pop out.

Terrence and Steven had the truck in their view on the screen. If anyone were going to get it, they would have more than enough time to catch the thieves.

Steven spoke again, still annoyed by Markus' statement. _"I don't appreciate the fact that you shit on God on every opportunity, man."_

 _"Oh my god!"_ Terrence theatrically groaned.

_ "Exactly – you all say his name, but don't respect it when other people do so with seriousness like a prayer."  _

Ana sighed out loud. "We're not having religious debates right now. We have other priorities, Steven."

"Because God isn't a priority, Steven." Markus mocked, cocking his gun.

Jim kept his mouth shut as he moved forward. Instead of splitting up, they all entered the FG market for the first time together to retrieve some supplies as well. Jim missed this place.

He nudged to Spock, pointing to the mattresses with a wink.

Spock decided to tease him back by actually walking to the mattresses, holding one price tag between his long fingers. He looked like a shopper that was considering it, pursing his lips as if the price was logical for the object.

Jim almost forgot about the current conversation in his ear. He was holding in his urge to burst out into laughter.

 _"I heard Jim pray one time."_ Steven confessed. _"Don't think I didn't hear you, Jimmy!"_

The silence that wisped through the market could expose a simple cockroach. He wasn't ashamed, but he didn't want to explain either.

Spock dropped the tag and looked at Jim with furrowed brows. There was something unpleasant in that look.

"Why do you all look surprised?" He asked them. "I literally told you I prayed once." He said to Spock.

"I assumed it was an expression." Spock answered calmly.

Steven laughed at them, as if he won a bet of some sort. _"Told you!"_

Ana didn't look fazed, but Markus did.

"But … people have burned down aliens and sympathizers in the name of God." His voice dripped with condensation. "We've all seen it."

That was one side of the spectrum that he knew just as much as anyone in this room. He tilted his head forward, his jaw ticking. "What exactly does that have to do with _me_?"

"It's just … you're a smart guy. You have to know that God is just an idea that starts nothing but wars."

"God kind of likes this thing called morality too, last I checked." Jim retorted. "A belief system doesn't change because a faction decides to alter it to their advantage. What's done with it isn't a reflection on Him, but of them."

Markus put his gun down, and looked at Jim as if he finally lost it.

Ana walked between them "Let's drop this, and get some stuff." She turned to Markus, blowing a strand of hair away from her face. "No one is going to jump on your wagon by your arguments. I love you, but you have to stop."

 _"Chief said there were temples and stuff on his planet."_ Terrence inputted. _"What's a Vulcan's religion, Chief?"_

All three heads turned to Spock, whom was still staring at Jim with an expression of stone. Moments like these made Jim want to have some form of telepathy. Maybe they needed to have a conversation about this.

"His religion is logic, Terrence." Markus declared. "Isn't it?"

Ana ripped her gaze away from Markus and to her Chief. "The Vulcans I met never said anything of it."

His curiosity now stirred, Jim nodded his head with acknowledgment of the question.

Spock looked away from them as if the task was a hard one and back to the mattresses. "Although our practices can be argued to be the template for a religion, it is not. Temples and an understanding of spirituality do not imply that we worship a deity."

Spock's tone was different. It's changed into one he would when he was addressing the entirety of the base. Maybe this was Spock's lecture voice too.

"Although we follow the teachings of Surak, we acknowledge that he was no different than any other Vulcan. Also, unlike the prophets described in human religions, Surak did not have an exclusive relationship with a higher entity."

Jim stood still, watching Spock intently.

"There are traditions that remind us of a time long past, teachings that are explained to us in vivid detail, so that we can value our current psyche and our understandings of logic. To eliminate everything would be an expression of pride, and history is always imperative. We also follow rituals and philosophies post-Surak that consist of methods that aid us to master our emotions, not simply suppress them as if they are insignificant. A Terran equivalent I believe would be Buddhism, however I utilize that point of reference very lightly."

Spock returned his eyes on his council with an almost audible sigh.

Terrence and Steven were silent on the other end. Ana and Markus hummed with understanding.

Jim on the other hand – well, he felt like he got a clearer peak into Spock's world. He doubted that this fixation for the desire of discovery would ever ease down ...

**.**

**.**

**.**

"Are we good, guys?" Ana asked, her index finger pressing on her earpiece.

 _"Coast is clear on our end."_ Steven answered.

Jim held his bags and placed them in the trunk. Spock reflected his actions, then shut the door.

The original idea was to speak to Spock privately once they returned, but with the shifts soon after and their scouting tonight, he knew they would knockout.

Hopefully, meditate and knockout.

He doubted it. He would crash and Dr. Cardenas refused to give Jim any stimulants and she restricted his coffee – he would have to ask someone else to get that for him.

"Spock – " Jim began. "We should go back inside. I want to get some other things."

"You could have retrieved them earlier – "

"It's for the kids." He interrupted. "I know, but we can spare a few more minutes. It's not like there's anyone, or anything near us."

Spock moved ahead of Jim without an answer.

Jim poked his head from the behind the truck to see Spock place his hand on the window borders, popping his head inside.

"Jim and I will return shortly."

Jim grinned when he heard Spock's words in his ear.

"We heard you in our ears, Chief." Ana answered. "Be safe."

"I trust that you two will remain alert until our arrival."

"Until next time." They said.

Jim backed up with a smile, watching Spock developing a little quirk on his lips.

He led them back to the path leading to the market Jim practically lived in. This was just as much of an extension as his apartment.

"I am starting to find this secrecy alarming, Jim."

"It's nothing big." Jim opened the double doors into the abandoned establishment. "Besides great mattresses, there are these treats that I know everyone would absolutely love."

Spock followed Jim's lead. "Dr. Cardenas' blood pressure might not tolerate this one."

"Oh, yeah – the replicator incident. Well, these are better – they were made in a variety of European countries." He gleamed, walking through the half-empty aisles with a skip to it. "You were meant to find me before I ate it all. Now the base can have them."

Spock stopped in his step, taking out his earpiece. "Meant to … as in _fate_?" He asked the question with a lowered voice.

Jim's smile fell when he saw Spock, the words of that question ringing in his ears. "If you prefer to think of it that way." He took out his earpiece as well.

"To believe in fate and faith is a contradiction for many." Spock's eyes remained locked on his own fingers.

"Now that's a whole other conversation." Jim swayed back to Spock's side, holding Spock's forearm again. "I'm not a big fate person. Doesn't mean that this is any less true, or that I want you any less."

"The concept of inevitable destiny is a disturbing one to grasp." Spock said softly. "I prefer the belief that we create our own destiny."

"I agree with you there." He said in return. "What we said back there about beliefs, … is anything I said going to be a problem?" He questioned, remembering Spock's face of confusion from an hour before.

"Negative" Spock shook his head. "I apologize if you thought otherwise. I could never find your beliefs troubling when you have integrated yourself into my forms of rituals with ease."

"Rituals?"

"You always endeavor to assist. You continuously meditate with me to not only clear our minds, but as recognition that it is essential for equilibrium within my people. You have also abandoned meat for my comfort without my asking." Spock's expression softened as he reached out, placing his palms under Jim's jaw.

It was something Spock did sometimes to send his emotions through, since Jim was unable to discern some of them without it unlike Spock. Jim knew he was only feeling a fraction - he was a human after all.

There was no denying the heightened adoration that went through him whenever Spock did this.

It showed him the possibility of what could happen if Jim's request for more wasn't met with anxiety or unease. He wanted to utter the words. They were desperate to come out of his lips and introduce it into the air again.

"You have adapted to our shared connection, an element that should terrify you… and yet, you expressed your wish to be my bond mate, knowing it would prevent you from being with another, much less – "

"There'll never be another." He declared, the intimacy of it vibrating between them. "I'm not scared."

Spock inched back, moving his hand away. "I now realize that." He admitted before walking ahead.

Jim straightened his shirt. He wasn't going to push Spock further. He's seen people push things further and further until it broke apart – fragmented, until there was nothing to push anymore.

He wasn't going to be one of those.

Also, he finally realized that Spock was the one that was scared – not for himself, but for Jim. He had to respect Spock's wishes in the end.

No pushing.

He cleared his throat. "I brought you here for a reason." A teasing smile showing up on his face.

He moseyed his way to the back of the market. Considering that he smashed the doorknob ages ago, he opened the dusty doors with ease.

Jim clapped his hands. "Voila!"

Spock froze in his spot, his gaze shifting right and left, taking the entirety of the scene. The lights made one fear a large range of colors at times, but these colors only brought fortune - So much sugary fortune.

"You had access to this all along …" Spock took a careful step forwards, bending down slightly to read the labels. "The fact that your enamel remains intact is fascinating."

There were rows of chocolate of every kind, and Jim adored that they haven't expired, kept in perfect condition. The buildings provided the market a decent shade, preventing the place from becoming a sauna.

The weather was getting colder now anyways.

"We have white chocolate, which I once heard the C shift cry about. There has to be a few weirdos that want some of this dark chocolate. Savitra loves dark chocolate! There's a ton of milk chocolate, which I'm sure those kids would murder over. Some have dried cranberries and other miscellaneous fruits in it. Each one's a surprise." Jim pointed to all them, showing Spock the wide variety of sweets as if he was the one who brought them to creation. "These taste like nothing a replicator could make, Spock. Nothing."

Spock looked as if the room would engulf him in a chocolate fountain. Never to be found again. "I ... I would not know."

"Damn, of course you wouldn't." Jim wanted to hit his forehead. "No one bothers to steal sweets when everyone needs water and legit food first. So many cans … gone…"

"You misunderstand." Spock said, taking another step to the portion of chocolate assortment with the nuts. "I do not eat any forms of cocoa."

Jim mentioned the first thought to come to mind. "Are you allergic?"

"The digestive process of the substance results in uneasy, temporary symptoms." Spock's tone was skipping around the actual answer. He was omitting.

"You're lactose intolerant? I thought the absence of dairy in your diet was optional." Jim pointed out. "Like I said, we have dark chocolate. You're not being left out of this one, Spock."

"Again, Jim. You are misunderstanding me."

"An immune response then? Because that's the definition of _allergies,_ Spock."

Obviously Spock knew that, so what did he mean? Jim decided to start gathering the treats into the basket as he waited for Spock's answer.

Spock did the same, holding the thick rectangles for a second longer to read them in their various languages.

"Inebriated, Jim." He simply answered. With a toss of the treat, Spock's eyes flickered back up and met Jim's eyes.

Too bad Jim was gawking.

His stupor was full of images of a slurring Chief with horrible coordination and repulsive grammar. The images were wrong in every sense, because that wasn't Spock, and Spock would never receive enjoyment from such an incident.

This day was full of surprises.

They both gathered as much as they could, expressing the occasional thought of the base's reaction – especially Karim and Lexa's. Jim wasn't the only sweet tooth there.

"The marble ones are for Bud."

Spock picked up three and tossed it in the basket. Did Spock not hear him, or did Spock just accept his love for the plastic human shaped object?

Jim gave Spock a couple seconds to comment on it … except it never came.

"Dr. Cardenas favors truffles with salt caramel. She spoke of it once. I had to ask her to not drool on my arm from the memory." Spock commented as he read the label on another piece, turning it to its side. "This is the closest replica in the room."

It was a rectangle piece that consisted of perfectly cut squares with caramel filling, sprinkled with sea salt.

Jim smiled as he put in his last few, the basket now full. "I'm sure she'll like it."

Spock nodded while he put it in. He then held the edge of the basket with Jim, leading them out of the room.

With a kick of the door behind him, Jim held onto the basket tighter, taunting Spock to not fall down, 'cause then the whole ship would come crumbling.

Spock kept walking, turning to Jim for a brief moment to explain that such a thing would never occur. Jim only caught a few words of Spock's humorous reassurance, because he dropped the basket and ran ahead to shield Spock as if the Chief didn't obtain protective attire against the weapons.

With another blink, there was nothing presented before them – it was fast … too fast from what he saw. Considering the deep red, it should have illuminated the rest of the metal aisles and the walls. It should have shined on Spock's hair and face.

A blink and everything was missing, including a couple heartbeats.

With the glitch in the weapons, it should have at least swum around them to decipher what they were. Instead, they were ignored completely.

"I swear … I know I saw it."

If this were the first light during the day, then why didn't Terrence and Steven warn them? Why weren't Markus and Anastasia running in, telling them to abandon ship?

Spock adjusted his earpiece, moving ahead of Jim with a couple steps to take a peak at the corners, and the spaces in between the aisle to observe the other side of the market.

For a moment, Jim noticed that Spock saw the doubt in his eyes. The ominous atmosphere in space between them was too much to ignore.

"I believe you." Spock simply stated in the eerie silence.

Jim did the only thing he could do. He bent down to pick up some of the contents that fell out of the basket and placed it back in.

Did paranoia flood within him, preventing him to see sense? Unless the lights changed more of their behavior, he was seeing things.

"You didn't feel anything?" He wasn't talking about abilities, but the basic ability to sense a sinister presence that every human had.

"The only being I am capable of sensing with accuracy … is you, Jim." Spock sadly admitted, carefully treading back up to him to press his palm on Jim's shoulder's with a confiding squeeze.

**.**

**.**

**.**

After their return to the base, everyone rushed into the showers to get rid of the gungy smell that came from the coats, and unfortunately soaked in their skin. They could have taken care of that problem long ago. Clayton offered to do it himself. It was just that the council and Jim were too paranoid that it would confuse the already confused lights' detection methods.

Smelling like themselves, and the day's sweat finally removed, Jim noticed Spock walking closer than usual, their shoulders rubbing together. He paused for a moment in his steps, weighing in Spock's subtle expressions. Many would easily deem it as a 'blank' face, but it was as if Jim had a sixth sense when it came to Spock.

It wouldn't be weird if this somehow developed after their relationship changed or after the immense amount of time they spent working together. Instead, he was able understand them the second this man invaded his home – as if the dictionary was already built in.

Either what he saw was different from everyone else's point of view … or maybe no one spoke of it. Markus, Terrence and Steven occasionally had some problems finding out about their Chief's state of mind. Anastasia was different – she had a knowing look to her unlike the rest. It was probably him, Ana and … Karim at most.

And right now, Jim could see those eyebrows a little closer together than the norm. Those curved lips parted several times, but no words escaped from them as Spock sealed them again. Spock moved his damp black strands four times so far, which actually had little waves to them. It was a small change to everyone, but drastic to Jim all the same.

He didn't miss the teasing side-glance Spock gave him before he closed his bath stall door, memories of a lustful ambush in the back of his mind, threatening to resurface at any given second.

With the intention of bringing back their handmade armor into storage after the clean up, the two locked their gaze in the middle of the corridor. Jim didn't miss the fact that one of the recreational room doors was behind him.

Spock ripped his eyes away, scanning the opulence of their surroundings - The chatter and laughter of multiple occupants.

Jim could practically hear Spock's gears on high levels, clanging by how fast they were spinning. He had a sound for each kind of thought. "What are you thinking of?" He asked anyways.

Spock showed no sign of surprise from Jim's observation. Deciding to eliminate the boundaries that they had unnecessarily created for themselves, Spock prowled towards Jim in public view.

He sucked in a sharp breath, unaware that he was smiling wickedly for no apparent reason. There was a pull between them and it sharpened with each step Spock took.

Spock wouldn't …

This was the closest they had been in public, except for the mock wedding incident, and even then – Jim was the one who initiated the surprise peck on the lips.

And God, they were alluring lips.

His shiver wasn't from the chill of having damp hair and opened pores, but of the way Spock tilted his head with a look of unflinching determination. Instead of a quick kiss, Jim became victim to soft lips opening his with calculated precision.

He wanted to drown in it, Spock's scent and wet tongue gliding with his – thoroughly taking over. Expecting for this overwhelming feeling to resume for only a few seconds, Spock placed a palm on one side of Jim's face – thus adding more affection in the spontaneous gesture.

None of them showed signs of wanting to separate, or trying to make sure that they upheld a professional image … or what was left of it at least.

Sadly, Spock pulled away – his forehead still on Jim's. "This is our home. We can conduct ourselves whichever way we please."

A swell of affection rose in him, positive that he was flushed right about now. His ability for speech was literally kissed out of him.

"I have a proposal." Spock offered.

The subtle movement of Spock's lower lips, dipping behind his teeth was enough for Jim to want to grab Spock into the first available room. All he could do was let out a low hum in acknowledgement. This was a development he greatly approved of.

Taking advantage of Spock's touch, he thought out the word _YES_ with his loudest internal volume, not caring for what Spock would have offered. The answer would remain the same.

To stir him up some more, Spock's other hand brought Jim closer as he brushed the tip of his nose by Jim's – a little shake that stated that Jim had to hear him out first.

"We will resume our meditation tomorrow." Spock continued, his voice low and carrying the ideas of extremely inappropriate ecstasy filled acts. "I cannot have you immensely fatigued tonight."

Jim wasn't sure if it was the public bluntness of it, or his vivid images worthy of satisfying him for life, or Spock's erotically dripping voice – he whispered a _'Yes'_ instantly.

Spock was playing Jim like his lute, very masterful in his skill.

The moment was dismissed by Kara's demanding yell. She interrupted them in the middle of something that had every capability of turning intensely salacious. The sassy girl expressed to them that Dr. Cardenas required their presence.

"She'll make me clean her supplies if you're late!"

Thinking that him and Spock would have some freakin' private time after all the scouting, shifts, paranoia and lack of general couple romantic opportunities, he sulked, making his way to the medical room.

Before they entered the door, Jim decided to stop Spock and rake a couple damp strands away from Spock's forehead. Satisfied by Spock's appearance, he pushed through the door.

Expecting urgent news, or at least a polite greeting, Spock and him became reprimanded children in Dr. Cardenas' office, in which she cleared out all personnel to express her total irritation without interruption.

To her, they became a nuisance – a lovable one, but a nuisance all the same. To the base, they were heroes, just like the day they came back with the deer. As much as she loved them for providing different forms of protein, she despised them for bringing ridiculous amounts of sweets that she couldn't keep track of.

When she finally released them, cursing under her breath – Jim ended up stopping in the middle of the corridor to let out the laugh that had been itching at him since they arrived.

Spock stopped in his steps, a quirk of his lips – clearly showing that he agreed with Jim's attitude. The only way they escaped in one piece was because of two words from Spock's mouth.

_'Salted Caramel'_

It was beautiful hypocrisy.

Karim ambushed them, a chocolate bar in his hand and his messy hair in a high ponytail. He grinned at them with chocolate stained teeth.

"You got an earful, huh?"

"An incident I will endeavor to never repeat." Spock replied, leaning on the wall with his perfectly erect posture momentarily gone. He moved his hair to the side, and glanced at Karim. "I take it that you are fond of our gifts."

"I think Lightrunner here just made you awesome." Karim grinned, with thumbs up. "I know you're not the one who decided on this, Chief."

"Is that your subtle way of mentioning that I was never your definition of ' _awesome'_?"

Now flustered, Karim animatedly waved his hands to deny that statement while Jim let out another laugh in expense to Karim's nervousness. Spock only stared at the kid, silently demanding an explanation, and that made Jim want to hit Spock on his shoulder. Now he knew why Ana did it so much to Markus.

"Stop teasing him." Jim stepped forward to shield Karim from Spock's laser expression.

Spock moved away from the wall, standing straight as he patted the fur coated vest in his hand. "I do not tease."

"Yes." Jim wasn't hearing any of that. "Yes, you do."

If he heard Spock deny it, Jim would expose him to the world – or at least what was left of it. He would create some form of radio transmission just for that task.

"He totally freakin' does." Karim lifted his head from Jim's chest and took an aggressive bite from his milk chocolate bar – probably imagining it as Spock's head.

Spock straightened his shirt, walking ahead and back into the direction of the storage room to drop off the fur armor. "That is merely your opinion."

Jim stared at Spock's retreating back. "An opinion that's a fact, mister!"

"Stubborn." Spock answered, not turning back to face them at all.

Jim let go of Karim and followed after him, his voice loud enough for everyone else to hear. "Authoritative."

"Until next time, guys!" Karim waved the cocoa treat at them, already stepping back to go wherever he was headed.

Jim waved back, hearing Spock call him 'Competitive' in the process.

He finally got right up to the fast pacing Chief and jibed in another word. It wasn't hard to remember them – they were true 'till this day after all.

"Domineering."

Spock answered swiftly. "Still reckless. Even more so than my original assumption."

The words weren't of a hurtful nature, so Jim took it in stride.

He kept his voice low, matching Spock's pace as he waved to the teens that had greeted them. "Forever argumentative, I see."

Spock continued their old game. It was their first one. "Your incessant opinions have yet to cease."

The next response should have been 'Sexy' but instead, Jim didn't say it. At least he didn't plan to yet.

He moved a couple steps ahead, turning around to walk backwards while glaring right at the Chief. "Now now, Mr. Spock – the next one will be a base announcement if you continue with this." He added a seductive sway to his walk, tsking as he shook his head.

Spock took two large strides, fisting the front of Jim's shirt to bring them closer – uncaring for the eyes that turned in their direction by the compromising position. "A simple compliment would not embarrass me, Jim."

The husky voice was enough to make Jim drunk on the spot. "So you want me to say it, huh?"

Spock let go, a hint of surprise on his face.

Proud of his resilience, he held his position, a grin slowly forming on his face. "You're going to have to catch me then." He whispered, extending the game for his twisted purposes of entertainment.

Spock took a quick step forward with a determined glare, his shoulders squaring as if ready to run.

Jim took off into the cafeteria, holding onto his fur, and made careful sure to not bump anybody in the process. Some of the people yelled his nickname … and then some started yelling 'Chief!'

Spock was getting closer. With an abrupt shift on his trail, he went around an unoccupied chair, pushing it back in hopes that it will slow Spock down. He quickened his pace with a throaty guffaw from the thrill of it all, the scenery blurring around him. He was at a disadvantage because of Spock's physiology, so he didn't allow himself to turn back.

Lightrunner's rules: Never turn back. Stress, but not too much stress.

He already demanded the computer to open his room door, not bothering with the storage room. Luckily, it would work because it wasn't lockdown yet. He slid into the room, almost tripping, demanding that the computer close the door instantly – not giving a shit that Spock could ask for it to be opened later. Heck he would press his body on it to prevent that from happening.

It was hilarious when he never received the chance. Spock's hand poked through at the last minute, stalling the door from fully closing enough to move his whole body inside.

Spock's strength was worthy of awe.

"Congratulations." Jim watched Spock release an exasperated gust of air in front of him. His smile widened enough to show teeth. "Chief."

And the joking tone chipped, a darker one engulfing it enough for them to see it as clear as the gifted dark skies.

He was just being an asshole by dropping his fur coat, and taking off his own shirt with a deliberate rhythmic sway, his hair probably stuck to each side of the ceiling.

He was fully prepared for when Spock's lips met his, relishing in the addictive texture of their mouths against the other. His intense desire of wanting Spock all over him and in him must have been easy to sense.

Honestly, what did Spock expect? This man had been turning him on since they got back. It wasn't just the kiss either. It was the fact that they did it right out there without shyness. Spock was lucky Jim didn't do anything about that right then and there.

But … something told him that Spock would have allowed it.

Spock let go of Jim's bottom lip with a low gasp.

His thoughts tugged at something inside Spock, and Jim noticed it all as he nefariously smirked at the new information.

"You like that idea, don't you?" He teased against Spock's lips, trying hard to concentrate even though the task was difficult. There were hands not leaving a centimeter of his torso untouched. "You want the whole base to know that my undignified noises are because of you, for you … am I right, Spock?"

Spock's hand traveled south with a nod, his heightened desire evident. Spock nibbled under his jaw as he wedged at the hem of Jim's pants. The mental message of Spock's claim to him shot right through his mind.

Jim staggered back from Spock's movements, the edge of the bed eventually right behind his calves. Spock had more advantages through their link, and Jim knew that his affections were known with great detail by their eager touches.

Maybe this was selfish of him, but he yearned for more.

Jim wasn't aware if he fell back on the bed or if he was pushed, the view above him being all that he could think about. Spock threaded his hair with his fingers, revealing more of his normally concealed features.

Jim wrapped his fingers at the bottom of Spock's shirt. "Words, Spock."

The demand caused Spock to pause in his movements, his expression quickly changing into one of confusion.

"Words?" Spock's brow was up, his hand lightly bushing the surface of Jim's lower abdomen. Jim's pants were partially down at this point – his aching cock still hidden under the material. "You wish for my words, Jim?"

_Fuck yes!_

Jim wanted to hear all the words Spock had buried inside.

"I could begin with the fact that you are incredibly distracting. Something I believe that is done very deliberately on your part." Spock started with a small smirk. "If only you knew of my thoughts during the football game." He then placed his head next to Jim's and hoarsely whispered in his ear. "I could have had you on the field."

The air was sucked out of him by the tune of those obscene thoughts that were revealed by none other than Spock. Could he hear those again? He craved to hear them again, the source of that dirty sentence pushing him to a pleasure filled daze.

"I could also begin by confessing that I nearly endeavored to facilitate Terrence's immediate exit, so that I could have devoured you in the room that echoed all your exquisite sounds for me." The hot declarations continued without mercy. "It took much resistance on my part."

_Who … who the hell is this person?_

"Or I could begin by expressing that I favor your lips on mine, your hands gliding on my skin with such skill, I avoid to think of how you have earned them with great effort."

He would have told Spock again and again that it didn't matter, that Spock affections would be the only ones he would welcome from this day forwards, except he was instantly shushed by a soothing whisper above his lips.

Spock wasn't done, and it was his growing anticipation that prevented him from raising his head up to kiss Spock senseless.

"Or I could simply inform you that with these facts aside, it is what I discover in your fascinating mind with each day, that compels me to irrationally lay my claim."

If there was a person in this universe that could remain still and unfazed by these concentrated doses of tenderness, then that person was dead inside.

Spock paused in his endearments to give Jim a light kiss on the cheek. "If you desire my words, Jim – then I will use them to always express that you have me just as much."

**.**

**.**

**.**

Jim only needed to look at the window to see that it was almost dinner. He had to make sure that him and Spock ate something before they all left again later on. A little reminder to take his medication was also floating in his head.

He inched his tired body off the bed and struggled to get some basic clothes on. With the fur coats still on the floor, he walked over them, reminding himself to put them back into the storage later. A sick part of him entertained that maybe the council and him should make a coat for everybody in the base. It would bring the deer population down, so every time they had meat – they had a coat.

Then again, regarding his old assumptions and Spock's theory, the lights could obtain some kind of adaptive sensors or something… it was a testy dilemma.

Satisfied that he looked presentable to the world, the door slid open, and he made his way down the quiet hallway. He rubbed his eyes, stifling a yawn right after as he took a couple more steps.

He had one more turn until he reached the cafeteria, or as all the Starfleet officers still called 'the mess hall'. His internal alarms rang from the unsettling absence of noise. This was supposed to be the busiest time of the base. People should have been bumping into him on the way out.

He picked up his pace, catching a glimpse of the empty rooms by the corner of his eyes. He would have called to someone. He would have called to anyone, except his voice was lost to him.

With a slip of his foot, he crashed on the floor. Once he blinked to clear his vision, he saw just what he fell on.

Piles, and piles of white sand…

They invaded the surface of his skin, took refuge under his nails and scattered in his hair and clothes. He lost all functions of his body as his fingers began to tremble with an uncontrollable rhythm.

It was obligatory that he should look up and face his surroundings. Unfortunately, the little sanity he had wouldn't let him. His mind was at war with his body. He had to look, but he didn't want to.

_No, no, no._

With a bite of his tongue, he forced himself to turn his body around, away from the floor and finally on his back. This was the part where he should have released an agonizing scream – one that was worthy to shake the sturdy walls he was in – the walls he thought he was safe in – the walls that were thought to provide a cocoon for every survivor.

The walls that failed to do it all.

A glassy layer was covering his eyes, and Jim sniffed as he blinked the developing tears away. With fingers threatening to pierce his tender flesh from his tight fists, he ran back into the corridors, hoping to find some sort of sign – and any sign of life would have done.

The hallway formed into a Y, and he knew which trail led to which rooms. After a deep, raspy breath that ached his lungs, Jim took a beehive to his old room. A slither of artificial light from the room door flashed in the hallway, the bulb dying just like his soul.

Jim's loud swallow accompanied the creak of the door. His fingers caressed the metal canvas before pushing further to the side. The swirls of Bud's cheeks were the first thing to catch his attention.

He was never jumped into a suffocating hug, his sight being temporarily blind by thick black strands. He was never cursed out for popping by without a warning. He was never taunted on his relationship with Spock.

He was never called ' _James!'_

Nothing happened when Jim entered the room, because Bud was in the middle of the remnants of what used to be Karim.

Covering his mouth with his palms, Jim took a couple steps back, hitting the wall as he slid down to the floor.

_… Karim?_

He must have been shoved into some alternate reality, because the world him and Spock were in was finally getting better. Things should have been better!

They all deserved better!

The blood retreated to his face and neck, some of it in his mouth from piercing his tongue with his teeth.

This room consumed his fragile mind.

Exhaling a low grunt, Jim exited the room and made his way to Steven and Adriana's direction. The laughter of a high-spirited father, with the mind that could put many to shame, never showed up alongside little giggles of a loving daughter.

His search continued. Soon after, a little toothpick on the ground caught his attention. He then realized that the sand below must have belonged to Terrence. The hissing curses and slick glances normally given by the tough security worker would never show up to give Jim his daily dose of ridicule.

The beloved teacher with the mouth of a sailor wasn't found in her room, so Jim deduced that he would find her in the library. Her last spot of life would most certainly contain the other kids.

… the kids.

All gone – perished. The rest must have been in the cafeteria. Savitra and Clayton was there … were they at least together? Was Savitra laughing with Kumar? Did Kara eat the food, teasing the little boy to get a rise out of him again?

By the time Jim had to check for Anastasia and Markus, he could no longer walk.

He knew what he would find.

There wasn't a point to this scavenger hunt anymore.

The walls were no longer supporting his body because of the sweat between his fingers. He has to just sit down and … breathe. His knees were pressed against his chest, his shaking hands holding his head so he didn't bang it on the wall, damaging his messed up body even further.

… No – he had to complete his search. With one deep breath, he started to stand up.

He was far from elegant when he resumed his pace, almost falling from each step. He walked past Zack and Lexa's rooms without looking inside. Those two talked too much to be this silent. They would now be silent indefinitely.

Once he was back at the intersection, he approached the council room. With each echoed step, it provided more verification of his isolation.

He wanted to bang the door like he banged the rest. Instead, the bang turned into something softer, as if cradling a baby in his arms. The cold sensation on his palms created no sound. He was as empty as the silence surrounding him – too weak for a proper knock.

"…Markus?" He croaked out the name. "Karim told me there were cockroaches in the storage room, … and … and they're coming here. A big army, man."

If that didn't get Markus' attention then Jim understood that no one would speak back to him. Ever.

"Wanna tell me more about that phaser?" Jim sniffed, holding the bridge of his nose, resting his head on the door. "I'll tell Spock if you … if you don't open this door. Anastasia?"

No one showed up.

"You guys should check-in with Dr. Cardenas. I … I heard she wants to look at your improvements..."

He didn't bother to worry about how ridiculous this was. He would have killed to hear their ridiculous banter.

Fluttering the tears away, he wiped his face and directed himself to the medical room that was a stairway down.

The ice cold waves coming through him could almost make Jim forget that this happened. Dr. Cardenas loved this temperature – anything warmer and she would scream 'Bacteria growth!'

_I was supposed to be in space, and now this whole darn planet is one big giant ball of mold. If it weren't for you and your messed up heroics, alongside Steven's one-track mind – I would have killed myself with the stuff meters from my office. That old technology couldn't sufficiently power a training base of this gander forever. Chief tells me items are scarce – I know they are!_

_I hate it here, and this is my birthplace._

The blue lightened, clinical space was no longer clean. With each door, he became more numb in his reaction – Dr. Cardenas would never rant to him again. For a woman who lived in the stars, her last days of life stripped her from the simple pleasure of viewing them – forever hidden of the moon.

If Hell had seven layers, then a new one was surely created – and it was filled with white sand with weakened bones and voiceless screams. It was coated in alluring hues, hypnotizing its victims to only burn again. They would attempt to break free for over a millennia – once again, repeating the cycle of capturing souls with the disguise of flying beauty.

**.**

**.**

**.**

By the time Jim returned to his room, the door shut with a hiss that should have been muffled by the other noises that were supposed to be around, providing life.

He wanted to crawl back into bed, too lazy to bother with taking off his shoes. He almost had the opportunity too.

If only Spock didn't have his eyes open, staring at Jim from head to boots – especially the boots.

Jim didn't need a mirror to see the utter mess he was. He could say he fell in the fields outside, but that lie along with any other he conjured would be in vain. He just wanted to bury himself in the sheets forever.

With a quick motion, Spock jerked up from the bed, his bare feet on the floor.

"You are covered in …" Spock winced - his emotions came through with a clear crystal so sharp, it could cut steel.

Jim didn't speak – he didn't need to. Spock saw it from his form, his trembling lips, his new layer of dead tissue, the reddened rings around his eyes and hitched breaths that tried to prevent his cries.

Spock's expression held a mixture of a man who could see right through a person. This was not just Spock, but the Chief tilting his head as he sucked the information from Jim instead of simply asking. He moved closer to get a more detailed assessment, moving his head forward with narrowed eyes.

Jim cocked his head up, trying not to slide down into the floor. He could pinpoint the exact moment when Spock came to a conclusion – especially when Spock went tense and took a staggering step back with widened eyes.

"Jim?"

It wasn't a question, but a plea of sorts. This was Spock asking Jim to deny his thoughts – maybe explain that this was an attempt at teaching him about human pranks.

No sounds of denial came from Jim, and Spock saw it.

With parted lips, Spock said the word that made Jim's heart stop.

"Computer."

Jim knew Spock would blame himself, because if Spock had his abilities, he would have felt people dying around him. But the reality was … Spock only felt Jim.

"Spock – " He suddenly found his voice.

_Don't._

Spock immediately shut his mouth, his face morphing into one that was holding in a strangled scream. He wasn't looking at Jim, but looking at a man that could still assemble his soul … all it would take was a simple lie.

When one was faced with only sorrow, it was a duty to stitch some pieces together out of nothing for their love.

He wanted to – God, he wanted to fulfill that duty so bad.

_Awaiting command, Mr. Spock._

Jim could only say the opposite of comfort.

"Don't do it." He managed to ask, taking a step forward – too hesitant to reach Spock in fear that Spock would see the images he just did, branding his mind of this cruelty forever.

The computer's voice never scared him. It did now, because her silence killed everyone here. She refused to speak in warning – refused to scream – alert – flash the red lights – inform everyone to search for safety. She refused it all, and she was speaking to them as if their lives weren't punched and exposed inside out, struggling for air.

Jim didn't even know what happened. By his book – it was impossible. They should have been dead too if anything.

"State the time."

_1752_

Spock could always tell the time, even after waking up. By asking the computer, it was a sign that Spock didn't trust himself. Spock needed confirmation to know that it was not past lockdown.

Jim lunged forward, and tugged at Spock's sleeve – careful to avoid skin.

Spock was solid rock, staring at the door between him and the ghost filled Warehouse. It was as if Jim was no longer in the room.

"You can't, Spock –"

He felt the strength from Spock's arms as he was pushed aside, so that Spock could go past the door that would lead them into the new layer of Hell.

Thinking that Spock would yank the door away, the ex-Chief plastered his palms on the metal, leaning closer. All Jim could see was Spock's stiffened back and tense shoulders.

"You don't want to …" He insisted. Logically, Spock had to see – but did it have to be now?

There was nothing they could do - nothing to bury.

A couple moments of suffocating, agonizing silence, Jim heard an exhale that didn't carry its usual rhythm. It was interrupted before it resumed – a classic sound of one who was holding in a yell or a cry … or both.

The sound disappeared as soon as it emerged. It was enough to spear through Jim's heart.

"Computer."

Jim couldn't stop Spock anymore. This was their new reality. Thinking that he was trying to prevent Spock from hearing the soul crushing, sanity splitting, literally world ending, trauma inflicting, weight building, rage inducing words – Jim realized that it was also him that couldn't deal with them. He wanted to cover his ears.

Without turning back, Spock asked anyways. "… How many life forms reside in Warehouse 15?"

The beeping tunes of a computer confused rang in the room. Jim knew the pending answer. Spock must have understood just by how long she was taking.

Jim guessed that Spock's lips were in a deep frown, and he was also able to hear Spock's gritting teeth.

This was torture.

"Computer!"

Jim flinched in his spot by the sheer volume of Spock's desolate scream. It was the voice of a man who experienced too much for one sentient being to handle.

Jim was well aware that his will was once massively damaged. Eventually, it repaired itself. It was a good thing too because it became damaged again, its wounds healing at a slower rate this time. Nonetheless, he knew it would fully heal. All that was needed was time.

After seeing sand intermingling with sand in his only safe haven, in the only place where he could sleep with both eyes closed, with a warm body next to him – after witnessing the damaging display of Spock's shaken body sliding to the ground, Jim heard the hammer that forcefully fell down for another ear piercing crack. It was the crack that re-opened the previously sealed ones, promising to create more until there was nothing left.

He knew his will wouldn't heal this time.

_Two heat signatures detected._

**.**

**.**

**.**

**SPOCK.**

_Spock traveled for endless miles in the hovercrafts that were left untouched from the riots. The remaining people of Terra realized that the lights never arrived during the day, hence damaging and killing what they could during their few hours of reign. He was sore, a pain that was unfamiliar to his body. He was cold, and he was tired._

_He had to learn to adapt to the perpetual fatigue. He hadn't slept in five days because he was never fully comfortable with his position. He once heard the expression 'sleep with one eye open' – He did better._

_He kept them both open and wouldn't mind doing so indefinitely. He briefly looked up at the r_ _ear-view mirror and wanted to heave out the bile of his empty acidic stomach._

_The humans around him wanted his ashes on the ground. This was not because he wronged them, but because of his image, the color of his blood. He threatened them. He disgusted them. Sneaky chatter and malicious words hidden in casual conversations were things he grew used to. He experienced them before._

_Never did anyone want his death because of it._

_"You can't drive anymore."_

_"You still need to heal." Spock answered, remembering the violent crowd that attempted to hurt the man – whom he learned to be named Terrence - for defending him._

_Terrence was the one who untied him from the tree as he awaited execution. In Starfleet, he mentally prepared himself to die a quick death. It was nothing like the experience of waiting for a prolonged period of time. He never thought he would be prisoner in Terra._

_His mouth was shut during the whole experience, holding in words of anger or plea. He would never beg._

_"And that was from saving your careless ass. None of that matters if you crash us into oblivion." Terrence moped. "I didn't face my fears for nothing."_

_Oblivion sounded like a pleasant idea._

_"No. I don't like that look." Terrence hissed as he rose up from his seat behind Spock and moved forward to place himself in the passenger seat. "I'll take over from here."_

_"Terrence – "_

_"If you want to apologize again, I won't care for it." Terrence interjected. "Just … keep that hat on and all will be well. Those horrible people shouldn't be able to try and kill you again. Nowhere is safe, so we keep on moving."_

_"I did not expect to be rescued." He admitted into the silent air._

_"The whole planet tumbled into something insane, humanity included. Doesn't mean we all went down with it, Mr. Pointy Ears."_

_In the end, Spock took up Terrence's offer and allowed the younger man to drive as he slept in the back. The third attack took place one month ago, and in that month – Spock has seen all the killings of non-human beings and 'sympathizers', which consisted of most of the Academy._

_Which consisted of his students._

_He closed his eyes and saw it all again, the quality sharpened enough to kill. He crossed his arms, tightening the embrace over his shivering body covered in civilian clothing._

_He would sleep with the burgundy hat._

_…_

_Both him and Terrence rolled up on a rural area, passing a couple farms in the process. They walked out and stared at a large metal cube with a slouch. This place was misplaced indeed._

_"Company headquarters?"_

_"I do not see any specific logos that would indicate that this is a company's central establishment."_

_"You're the Starfleet guy." Terence managed a smile as he turned to his new partner in survival. "I'm guessing that it's an oversized storage facility."_

_"We will have to gather more evidence."_

_After four minutes, Spock led Terrence to the side, looking around to see if anyone else was around. He knew there wasn't, but he could no longer comprehend his surroundings with certainty. This was probably due to the fatigue and extensive stress._

_The small nap did little to rectify his internal damage from his injuries. He knew that under his clothing, he was covered in bruises._

_Self-defense was never an issue, and he never considered adding more to his training once he made Earth his second home. Humans were not a match for him._

_Unfortunately, he came to discover that a mob of them was._

_He could battle two, four, seven, maybe nine … but not **forty-three**._

_"You keep looking to your hips as if you still have that fancy phaser."_

_"Reflex." He simply answered. It was true – he no longer had a weapon, only his fists. He was relieved that he did not have to be fearful of the young man with him. He would have succeeded in a fight, however he did not want to kill._

_It was something all the Federation species on the grounds resorted to. A few banded together._

_The tall building seemed to be two stories up, and from what Spock could conclude – it could very well extend underground. Finally, they found the front of the establishment._

_The stench that hit them was enough to make him gag. Terrence on the other hand, already did._

_It was not a horrid odor. In fact, it was subtle to the point that one might not notice. It was the smell of wet sand. He was surprised that Terrence reacted to it at all._

_Terrence covered his nostrils as he limped on ahead. The doors led to another empty room with shelves on the side._

_"Is that meant for … weapons?" Terrence questioned, pointing to it. It was an empty arsenal._

_It was certainly not meant for food._

_There was a button next to another set of doors. Spock went ahead to slam it. The lights flashed red, causing Terrence to jump with a yelp. His new partner's reaction to the lights edged on full panic attacks mostly._

_Spock remained calm and watched the doors open to reveal white-coated floors. They walked into an open room filled with circular tables and chairs._

_The sides had empty sections where one would place buckets of food. This was a mess hall …_

_"Are those replicators?!" Terrence yelled in the open room. He ran ahead and began to dial. "My mom used to have one of these. It could only do drinks though … so here I go – Yes!"_

_Terrence turned around to reveal a cup with yellow liquid._

_"Orange juice!" He cheered after he took out his toothpick._

_Spock only raised a brow, before waking into a hallway that led to two different paths. "We should search around. The lights will arrive in five hours and twenty-one minutes."_

_He ignored the sand under his feet and noticed that there were seventy rooms in total, not considering the living spaces. Terrence was the one who found the library. It was practically empty._

_There was another large room that had tables with game boards – wide windows that allowed the view of the sky._

_Spock breathed in the air again, and realized that there was poor circulation. Thirty-one rooms had windows, but none could be opened. If the people that resided here did not burn, they would have suffocated or dealt with carbon dioxide poisoning._

_Regardless … how did they die?_

_He knew that there were more rooms, however it was a complicated task to move further. There had yet to be enough flow through the halls._

_Terrence bumped into him with ragged breaths. "You have to see this."_

_Spock followed the concerned man and marched a new path, leading to a set of doors that were four feet wider than the others. "We cannot enter."_

_Thankfully, they were not too far out._

_"I heard something." Terrence insisted._

_Spock sighed, and decided to say something that could very well be useless. "Computer?"_

_A hum resonated in the walls, sparking both their attention as the beeping took over their senses._

_State your name._

_"Wow." Terrence whispered in shock._

_"Spock. Commander Spock."_

_Commander Spock._

_Thirty Earth years._

_Graduate of Starfleet Academy - top fifth percentile._

_Science Officer._

_Former First Officer of the U.S.S Enterprise._

_"What a big shot you are …"_

_Mission Status … INVALID._

_Currently stationed in the Starfleet Academy, head of the Xenolinguistics and Interspecies Ethics department._

_Commander, you do not have clearance._

_Your presence is illegal._

_"Well dang."_

_Spock asked anyways. "State the purpose of this establishment. The former occupants must have been of Starfleet."_

_Classified._

_Terrence rolled his eyes, his age more evident in his actions. "What do you mean by classified? Everyone here is dead. Does it matter?"_

_Scanning heat signatures within Warehouse 15… Three – one unknown._

_"Three?" He heard the computer clearly, and yet he was still in doubt. He searched everywhere._

_Unless …_

_"Who is behind this door?"_

_Classified._

_"Allow us to enter. The officer could require medical attention."_

_Your presence is illegal. Your picture and records have been delivered._

_The shutting of the front doors clashed together, shaking the base. Terrence moved closer to Spock as if the action could give him more air … No, Spock realized that he wished for comfort._

_You will remain here and await further instructions._

_Immediately, the air was being sucked from his lungs. Panic swelled up within him. "No one will arrive!" He declared more urgently._

_Terrence banged at the door in front of him. "If you're awake or if you have a piece of humanity in you, please open the door. She'll only listen to you!"_

_Spock held onto his throat – he knew he could survive longer than Terrence, but he would have preferred to be burned by the lights than to have his air robbed from him, or to be burned like a torch along satisfied yells._

_"We have to … find a way out." Terrence urged, taking a deep breath. He resumed his pounds of the door, wasting his energy._

_They had to break the windows if they wished to survive._

_Terrence fell into the room, the doors swinging back to reveal a white area with cold air passing through. As long as it was air, Spock did not care. He breathed it in with a shiver and supported his body on one of the beds on the side._

_An actual biobed…?_

_"You guys aren't here to rescue me, I assume."_

_Both Terrence and him switched their gaze to a woman of a shorter stature dressed in a Starfleet issued black undershirt and pants. Her brown hair was in a high bun as she looked at them with a phaser in her hands._

_"We didn't happen to bring a ship the size of a city. Are you as blind as you are stupid?" Terrence spit out._

_The lady pointed her phaser at the man, causing Spock to jump between them with both hands up. He had to think of this carefully to not irritate the woman. Her uniform provided a fraction of relief._

_He was still prepared for the worst – for the world and the people inside have become incredibly unpredictable as of late._

_"That was rather rude." She said over Spock's shoulder, glaring at Terrence._

_"Well, I wouldn't have to be, if you didn't leave us out there to die."_

_"You're not dead. I know because I never met a carcass with such a loud mouth before."_

_"Enough." Spock raised his voice. This was absurd._

_"Commander Spock." She scoffed, dropping down her phaser with little hesitance. "You can take off that stupid hat. I won't light you up whilst running around you in circles."_

_"A rather specific comment."_

_She rolled her eyes and stepped back. "Welcome to Warehouse 15, where everyone is dead but me."_

_"When?"_

_"The second attack. Some of them managed to steal yellow suits in the storage and run away." She said to them. "I suck with computers, and this one's a bitch. She won't even let me close the front doors, so I'm stuck here. All I could do was restrict the filtrated air to my room. I have to stay in a closet every night because this place isn't sealed enough, hence all this fucking sand. Two weeks on Earth, and I'm stuck here forever it seems." She turned to them and cocked her head. "Michelle Cardenas."_

_"Ms. Cardenas … Michelle, the computer is defective." Spock practically spat out. "It sent my records to people that are most probably deceased. Its inoperativeness almost killed us."_

_"Sorry about that guys. I could have got to you sooner, but my paranoia got the better of me. Start over?" She innocently smiled with clenched teeth, aware of her errors._

_"Terrence Hiertz." Terrence introduced himself with a frown. "I'm what the bitch called an 'unknown'."_

_Michelle Cardenas was a surgeon with human and xenoanatomy knowledge. Her specialties were with Tellerites, but apparently she claimed to understand enough about Vulcans as well. After the introduction, she showed them the Warehouse's main system._

_After Dr. Cardenas spoke to the computer to allow more air filtration around the base instead of just the medical room, Spock and Terrence sat down and got familiar with the terminal immediately. The first thing he did was a general diagnostic, and found out that many of the functions were not evened out for top efficiency._

_He deleted many of the contents and functions – killing the woman that spoke around them in the process. Whatever was running this place had to be improved – dramatically. The security cameras around the outside of the base provided comfort to them. Instead of waiting to get ambushed, they could protect themselves ahead of time._

_"It's like we have sixty eyes. We can see as far as the buildings there!" Terrence announced with excitement._

_For the first time, Spock let his defenses down._

_He left the room, satisfied by today's work. One trip to the bottom floor, and Spock saw exactly what this base was missing, except it was a problem that could wait. Whoever remained here provided a solution that would give them enough time to search for a better one._

_The former occupants were probably expecting a repair team prior to the invasion._

_There were some cleaning supplies there too. The first goal was to clean the place. Spock stomped on the floor to get rid of the remnants on his boots._

_He was walking on a cemetery._

_…_

_Dr. Cardenas assessed their wounds and lectured them about how humans never seemed to surprise her. She was not stunned that they turned on the aliens residing on Terra because it was their nature to look for an escape goat._

_The whole thing was branded illogical. Once could not bring back their deceased loved ones by killing innocent beings._

_Speaking of an actual rescue, the only sign that came from Starfleet was something that fell from the sky and exploded. A couple dead officers were inside as rumors stated._

_Later, him and Terrence chose one room to sleep in after sealing it up properly. He offered to do the same for Dr. Cardenas, but she was insistent that she remains in the closet. She needed to sleep and anywhere else would make her too paranoid to bother._

_Spock desired to meditate, except the task was proving to be troublesome. There was a wall. He concluded that once he returned to full health, the task would become easier._

_Terrence's nightmare awoke him twice. If there was anything Terrence was afraid of, it was the lights. It shook the younger man's core into a frozen stupor._

_The next day was problematic for a plethora of reasons. The cameras detected a person running and running from something. The person was five foot and five inches at most, and held a gun – attempting to hunt for deer, unfortunately catching the attention of something else._

_They promised Dr. Cardenas that they would return to continue the cleaning. She never spoke of the sand inside the base, or what the sand used to be. He never pushed and moved along._

_She showed them the earpieces and explained that she would be their eyes._

_With the weapons she showed them and the keys to one of the trucks she sealed up a few days ago. He decided to take it in case they were forced to remain outside during the night. With that, they both made their exit._

_The person they rescued was an adolescent male that was too skinny to be classified as healthy. After calming him down, they explained that they had a place for him to stay instead of running, unskillfully chasing deer._

_"I'm hungry, man. If I eat something out of a jar again, I'm going to walk out when the sun disappears!"_

_Terrence's features softened. "You don't mean that."_

_"Was that an attempt at humor?" Spock said at the same time._

_"…I don't mean it. But I can't have beans again. They raided the stores … and now look – they're all dead. Where are those cans now? They could be anywhere, begging to be opened, alone near a pile of sand!" The young man twirled around to emphasize their morphed surroundings._

_"I am Spock. Terrence and I were concerned for your safety." This person was alone. Granted, Spock was always alone – but this one was human. He did not have to be, unlike him._

_"I don't have a set place to stay, if you really wanna know. I saw a group a week ago – crazy killers. It's like voodoo back there. Maybe I'll shovel the ground and cover myself in dirt so the lights don't get me. I'll be a vampire." The man huffed with puffed cheeks, momentarily hiding the sharp cheekbones._

_Spock blinked. "A vampire?"_

_"… right. That wouldn't work. Vampires are nocturnal." The male added as an afterthought._

_Terrence took a hesitant step forward. "Are you okay, dude?"_

_"Is anyone really okay?!" He cynically laughed. "Like, really? My parents died in the first attack, and I miss them! I also hate them for not teaching me how to hunt – " The man shook his gun around, causing them to step back with a wince. "I'm losing my mind."_

_Terrence put his hands up, expressing his desire to not become target practice. "Kid, stop it."_

_"The name's Karim. Not, Kid. You look young yourself man"_

_"I'm twenty-three." Terrence narrowed his eyes._

_"Younger than this articulate fella." Karim pointed to Spock with a tight smirk._

_There was a low vibration coming from the floor, rising up Spock's legs. It seemed that he was the only one to have noticed. He searched around … and found nothing._

_ "There's a truck approaching. If you're going to bring him – do it now."  _ _Dr. Cardenas announced in their ears. "No, no, no – Someone's pointing their head out – He has a gun … long range - DUCK!"_

_Spock grabbed the two men and sunk down to the floor. The shots fired above them._

_A truck popped up from behind a building and rushed directly towards them. Whoever was in the vehicle had speakers that rang out their warnings._

**_"Stay put, or I'll shoot again!"_ **

_They could run back to their sealed truck, but the one with the gun would just puncture out their tires. He should have taken his own hovercraft. He hoped that he could reason with them to get out of this, if they had any reason left._

_At least if they were in close range, Spock could fight them. He told Terrence to not expose his weapon yet, along with Karim. They had to give the appearance of being defenseless for now._

_Spock checked if his hat was on tight._

_The headlights penetrated their eyes, forcing them to look away. Two people jumped out of the truck and approached them, shadowing over the lights – giving them the appearance of people who had white wings on each side._

_"What the fuck are you two doing with this kid?" The one who uttered the stern query was a man of a bigger built, his skin almost as dark as his black shirt. He had a sneer on his lips as he glared with his slanted eyes._

_The one beside him was a woman of an athletic built with ripped fabric wrapped around her thick right thigh. Her red mane seemed as if it needed grooming. Her chestnut irises bore into them – scanning them for intel._

_Spock answered, his posture erect – hands clasped behind his back, forming tight fists. "We were simply conversing."_

_The stranger retracted his rifle. "You could be a perverted stain for all I know."_

_Despite the blatant insult, Spock could assess that their intentions were of a better nature than he originally suspected. This was a start. They cared for the well being of Karim._

_Then again … Karim was human._

_"You sure?" The woman said to Karim. "You could come with us."_

_Karim animatedly shook his head, his hands up and gun on the floor. "They were just checking on me. I met crazy people – and they aren't wackos from what I see."_

_Spock stared at the woman. "We have medicine. If you do not have the required ones, you could lose your leg."_

_It smelled infected._

_The woman glared at him, skeptical of Spock's words. "And who are you to say that?"_

_"I am someone who has access to what you so desperately require."_

_"Don't trust you." She said without deliberation. "Unless you're an alien – I won't trust you. You could try to judge me for all I know."_

_Aliens did not mean safety anymore either._

_Spock had the feeling that the woman would be a worthy opponent. She would fail, but it would not be as fast as he hoped. She did not clench to a weapon unlike her companion. If she was in fear of being 'judged' as the humans called it now, then she was a 'sympathizer' … or as Spock called it – a being with basic moral and a molecule of intellect._

_The man behind her pursed his lips with a low hum. "And no one's burning anyone here."_

_"He's Starfleet – he wouldn't judge you." Terrence blurted out. "That's kinda against his beliefs. Our beliefs."_

_That caused the two strangers to exchange a quick glance. The man moved his gun away - Another good sign._

_"Do you happen to have a photon torpedo up that ass of yours, Starfleet?"_

_The question did not have as much scorn as the man's first statement. This was probably an attempt to jest or sarcasm. "Negative."_

_"Negative?" The man laughed. "You a computer?"_

_He was supposed to say 'No', 'Nope', 'I don't' – not 'Negative'._

_A great error._

_"Obviously not." Terrence hissed, stepping closer to Spock with his chin up, alert and defensive._

_The woman approached Spock and looked directly at him, trying the take a peak under the hat. "I'm Lieutenant Anastasia Kirova. I was stationed on Starbase One before the shit storm."_

_Ah._

_"Then how are you here?"_

_"You heard of that crash everyone likes to talk about …?" She pointed to her leg for emphasis. "I was on that."_

_He believed her for now._

_"Commander Spock." He responded, tipping his hat down further._

_"Since we're sharing and all – Major Markus Smith." He nodded his head, tucking his gun away completely this time._

_"Major?" Spock raised a brow._

_Markus showed the shiny silver dog tag under his collar. "Marine."_

_"Well … I'm Terrence Hiertz – Just a kick ass civilian." Terrence announced with a shrug. "The vampire's Karim."_

_Spock did not know the people around him. What he did know was that they did not want to kill him, and were just as fearful for their own lives. Mankind did not always operate under logic, mainly moral. Now, that moral was rotten – only a few pieces that were defying its fate with the strength of an army._

_It was against the odds to meet so many of those pieces in such a short duration of time. It made him wonder if he would meet more._

_"That medicine would be great right about now." Anastasia said, giving them a weak smile. "We apologize for our rude behavior."_

_"Preferably some antibiotics." Markus added. "We live in our truck, so if you guys have beds too – that would be phenomenal."_

_Anastasia briefly hissed at her companion with disapproval. "Markus?"_

_Markus slouched, understanding her frown. "And I'm sorry for shooting at you."_

_Karim popped between Terrence and Spock, cheesing with a wide grin. "Do I get to come too?"_

_"Yes, Karim." Spock was growing fond of the teenager already._

_Terrence put his arm around Karim's shoulder. "It's us and one doctor – We just met her, but I know she'll do great."_

_Spock hummed in agreement. "I can easily take over if she is not currently capable of the task."_

_ "Don't doubt me, Commander. I'm up for the task. Bring her!" _

_Spock placed his index and middle finger on his earpiece. "She seems very adamant that you arrive with us."_

_"What is this place anyways? An apartment is too small for all of us, but anything bigger is a risk." Karim added. "I like my electrons, protons, and neutrons perfectly circulating. Thank you."_

_"It is a risk, however we have the proper precautions placed. It is a working progress."_

_They would seal each room one by one._

_Markus crossed his arms. "Lead the way, Commander."_

_Four days later, they found a primary school craft with one adult inside. The windows were taped, as they should have been, but Spock heard that there was more inside. He said so to the adult woman who exited the vehicle._

_Before they got her name and could even approach the children, she spouted the most vulgar words and declared that she would die before they got to them. Unaware of how the woman retrieved a phaser, she pointed it at them. Her posture and angle confirmed that she was a civilian - perhaps an instructor to the civilians inside._

_Soon, it became apparent that she was tough enough to want to fight, but too good to give the kids ages seven to fourteen any weapons at all. In a world so cold, she desired to maintain their innocence._

_Her name was Katherine Minamoto._

_The months passed with new rooms filled._

_Warehouse 15 was once again alive._

**.**

**.**

**.**

… Warehouse 15 was no more.

A swell of piercing ache sliced through him as he jerked awake. He was alone in the room. With every intention of running outside to search for Jim, he heard Jim approaching the door.

So he waited, and flinched at the sight that was presented before him.

The moment he took in Jim's sand-covered, disheveled and panicked appearance was the moment he knew that his life would once again forge a challenging obstacle – and regrettably, an unwelcoming thought emerged. He was not certain that he could succeed just as he did multiple times before.

The weight that always resonated within him finally won, his dignity disintegrating as his body gave into it, sinking to the floor.

_Two heat signatures detected._

The task of simply depending on his feet to hold his weight was a luxury in itself. With the intention of searching the place by every square foot, a stronger phantom shiver passed through him. His hands began to shake. He ceased the involuntary movements immediately.

The thump on the ground behind him confirmed his thoughts. Unlike him, Jim did not have the ability to stop these movements, uncontrollably trembling on the ground. He knew it would have been about time, unable to calculate the average amount per week or month by the randomness of these attacks.

He did not have to think to crawl forward and aid Jim to the side with his hands. There was a time when he once attempted to ease the seizure with his mind … but he realized that he could not help in that manner, only after it. All he did was actually increase the rapid stimuli with the merging of consciousness, thus making it worse.

It was a reflex to want to reach out and try to move the thick strands of Jim's hair, patting Jim's forehead. Carefully keeping his hands on fabric, he waited for the shaking to cease – forcing himself to not give into the emotions that punched through him.

In all of the forty-two seconds of waiting, he held his breath and blinked away the wetness of his eyes.

Jim was never heavy, however the complication of trying to rest Jim on the bed arose from his weakened knees. Ignoring the pressing fact, he succeeded in his endeavor. He grabbed Jim's container of water next to Spock's side of the bed, and drenched one of the small towels he gathered specifically for these moments.

Sometimes, Jim would be conscious immediately. Sometimes, Jim would rest for a few minutes - The maximum being six minutes. When comfortable with Jim's current state, Spock stepped back with a grim expression.

The door slid open, and he made his way into the sinister silence his home had become. The partial smell of what the world had turned into was a sign of death, and it invaded his nostrils. He pinched his nostrils, and stopped in his steps. He had to take a moment to breathe in the horrid taste in his mouth before resuming his path down the exhibit of what once was. This way, he would not breathe when he saw the worst of it.

By the time he made it to the cafeteria, Spock almost fell from the sheer shock even though he expected it in some gravity. As he took in the image of complete emptiness, he was teleported into a time when he arrived in nothing but his clothes and renewed hope.

His people, his friends, his family were all gone. Jim once stated that many thought it was painless to be taken by the light. If he had a way to test this hypothesis, he would. He needed to know that they did not meet their demise with pain. That it was quick.

That it was brief.

The library was partially empty of sand except for the far corner. There was one book on the ground – a famous one that spoke of green eggs and ham. Analyzing the amount of the fragmented remains, he vividly saw seven sections with a bigger pile next to the wall.

_How?!_

_How was this possible?!_

Jim and him should have perished along with them. There was no sign of a breach. There was nothing to warn them.

As he feared, the weapons descended during the day and they could very well arrive again during the night. They were supposed to be partially dormant.

Since everyone was inside per his order, then this place should not have caught an inkling of attention. Not a second of it.

This was against all his gathered data and hypotheses. Logically, this was not a reflection of his failure …

He felt like one anyways.

He never claimed to be the leader in the beginning. That leadership was naturally placed onto him. 'Chief' was a reflection of their trust in him. Everyone had their duties.

This was his.

"Where are the remaining one hundred and forty-eight occupants?" Another kick through a door and it smashed open, revealing dust that coated the bottom of his bare foot.

_Signatures are only detected within permissible range._

The front door was closed as it had been before. "Extend the search outside the permissible perimeters again."

Another kick, and Spock knew he was emanating the fury of a hundred warriors. He was alone for now, and even if he was with Jim … his shame was long abandoned.

"Locate Savitra Rai and Kumar Khan." The woman who had no qualms of hugging him like his mother was nowhere to be seen. If they were gone, Kara was too.

_INVALID_

"Locate Clayton Shaw." The voice that conducted many strict lessons was missing - a man who took the role of father to those without.

_INVALID_

"Locate … Terrence Hiertz." Was he scared? Did he scream? His nightmare became reality after all.

_INVALID_

The silence of guffaws and numerous idioms of humor were missing. "Locate Steven and Adriana Blaire."

_INVA –_

"Locate anyone other than James Kirk!"

_Mr. Spock_

He was heaving, an absolute mess. Noticing that a door was already ajar, Spock stopped beside it. This was Jim's old room.

The room had a distinctive smell. Nonetheless, he forced himself enter. Once inside, he stared at Bud.

Those red swirls on each cheek faded from when he first cast his eyes on Jim's plastic companion. Dropping his eyes down the figure, he took in the pile of sand by Bud's ankles.

It was illogical to state another command. "Locate Karim Naser…"

_INVALID_

"…why?" It was a question to no one in particular. It was his question to the Universe. Just … why? An urge to apologize teased his lips, knowing full well that the sentiment was useless.

This breach was more than a technicality. Unless the lights could shield themselves somehow … He could not conclude with utmost certainty. Regardless, the computer's existence was now pointless. It was flawed beyond repair.

There was nothing to repair – he could not roam in a home of the dead again.

"Initiate command 2 – 5 – 3 – 8 – 8 – 0 – 9."

_Confirmation required for termination._

"Terminate."

**.**

**.**

**.**

"Spock …?"

Seventeen minutes. It was the longest Jim had rested post-seizure. He was back in bed after he took off his shoes and Jim's. He positioned himself lower on the sheets. With his limbs wrapped around Jim, he tightened his hold – grateful that Jim was still with him.

The possibility of the loss being bearable would not have occurred if Jim's demise were the same as the others. He refused to let go, immersing himself in the warm body next to him as those fingers provided comfort with caresses and low whispers.

"…I'm so sorry." Jim began, the voice shaking in a way Spock knew his would if he spoke.

All he could do was let out a low hum that came out as a hitched moan. He allowed himself to do a brief nuzzle of Jim's shoulder. He felt the fabric of his shirt being grabbed into a fist around his waist.

"I know you … saw that. You shouldn't have done it yourself."

_You did._

"I wish you waited." Jim continued. "… I just … I don't know some things about what's going, but I do know that this wasn't supposed to happen. It's not our fault."

_This was not supposed to happen. Even with a breach, some of the occupants remained in their sealed room. This was … impossible._

"With every death, I think of how that person no longer has to fight, to hide, to be scared. It was always bittersweet because their constant running had finally ended."

Spock shut his eyes, letting Jim's shirt muffle the noises that were fighting to escape. Every minute proved to be more of a challenge. Not once had he almost cried – not when he was forcibly connected to a tree, the bark threatening to take off the skin of his back – not when he lost his abilities, and not during Jim's scathing torture.

"I don't have to say that here. Their last days were filled with a stable roof over their heads, with family, without hunger, without malice – all happiness and unity. Fully aware of what this planet has become … they still were able to laugh."

He felt Jim's chest rise before deflating once more with a deep inhale. The beginnings of peace was the last thing he should have felt – proving once more that Jim's embrace was the source of it all.

One of his strands was being twirled by Jim's finger, sparking a shiver through his shocked state. The other hand pulled him closer by his waist.

What would Spock have done without him?

"You gave them the biggest gift of all. They laughed, Spock – their kids laughed – they weren't surviving. They were living, looking forward to the next day."

By this point his lower lip was shaking with the rest of his body. He could not see Jim's face, but he sensed that Jim knew his current state of unmanageable spells of weeping. Anyone with eyes could deduce it.

He could not raise his head, keeping it down and fully aware that there was a green tint to his eyes from the built up pressure. His eyes were always too human, prepared to express the most human emotion.

A light kiss was placed on his forehead, a sudden sniffle making its way out. He knew when he faced a battle that was already lost.

"Don't think about the future … I'm here with you now." Jim's fingers raked through Spock's hair circling his scalp in the process this time. It was something Spock always melted in.

Jim's thoughts had aspects of his own pain, except Spock knew that it was not enough. There was more buried there, and Jim was deliberately hiding it as if he learned more techniques to manage their link. It was then that Spock noticed the invitation.

Jim was leaving room for Spock's pain, a message to let him understand that it was okay. That it was okay to let go of his barriers. There were subtle pleas resonating, requesting that Spock cease holding it in.

Again, he knew his shame to be long abandoned with Jim, however this was the first. He filled in the void with quivering moans, the rawness of it aching even more.

Although this was his first, he decided that this would be his last. For now, he just let Jim hold him.

**.**

**.**

**.**

They spent the next couple of hours without speaking, thoroughly immersed in their link as they lay in bed. Both did not wish to sleep again, for fear of what could return.

Jim's digestive system was a loud one, indicating that he required sustenance. Spock did not mention it just as Jim avoided the topic. There was no point. None of them were brave enough to exit those doors.

**.**

**.**

**.**

The sun rose up, Spock still attached to Jim in silence. As expected, the lights did not arrive during the evening, sinking to the Terran grounds to continue its terror.

It was a new day. They could not stay here.

Jim started to pull back, separating his limbs from Spock's. As Jim moved his body lower to look at Spock's face – Spock saw Jim's slightly inflamed eyes with reddened rings.

Jim echoed his thoughts. "We can't stay here."

Spock dropped his gaze, knowing full well that his expression reflected Jim's perfectly. "We have no other options."

**.**

**.**

**.**

"Spock…"

Spock was staring at the fur coats they failed to return to the storage the other day.

It was a plausible theory – the lights avoided to enter their room. Were they spared because of the glitch?

Jim picked them up and placed one in Spock's hands.

To not waste any time, they both decided to split up and grab the required materials before their departure.

The decision only lasted for thirty-eight seconds before Spock marched back to Jim just as Jim did at the same time, both unable to continue this task apart.

"Medical room first?" Jim asked.

"Of course."

The room contained the rest of Jim's medication. It would have been impossible to begin their travels without them.

Spock noticed Jim's pace quicken as they made their way through the haunted halls, the steady hum of the walls accompanying them. He followed them step for step, considering if they should just jog instead.

Once they reached their destination, he ignored the debris on the ground and accessed Dr. Cardenas' supply. He saw Jim stare at them with a contorted expression. Everything was labeled and easy to determine, however Jim scanned all of them with consideration.

Without a word, Jim grabbed his own medication, extra sedatives, generally required painkillers and two first aid kits. It was enough to supply them for years, considering that Spock doubted that he needed them himself. He never commented on it.

A part of Spock did not want to continue with this when they entered the back part of the cafeteria. He just wanted to leave and gather the supplies elsewhere. He was desecrating the people of Warehouse 15 by walking over their remains, even though he did it almost everyday outside these walls.

This time, he could connect them to faces he knew.

Both him and Jim barely gathered much and immediately made their way to the front door. They dropped their supplies, breathed in, and went back to march to the storage room.

There was a moment when he thought Jim would say something, but it never came. Like robots, they had a goal and they continued it without interruption.

With some new supplies in his possession, he saw Jim without any in his hands. Jim was staring at something in the far corner. Spock made his way closer, ready to ask why Jim was in a frozen stupor.

There wasn't a hint of sand down here so … Ah.

Spock saw the object of Jim's attention. Blue irises were attracted to two rolled up sleeping bags that belonged to a specific engineer.

"Jim …" He uttered softly.

Instantly, Jim blinked and walked away while waving a hand dismissively.

"I'll get the batteries." Jim said instead. "The power isn't always the best at my place."

They dropped the stuff by the front doors soon after. Spock trod to the button that would show them the empty terrain.

"Wait."

His palm stopped right above the button, and turned to Jim with a questioning look.

"I want to go to my old room."

Spock understood the meaning immediately. He asked Jim to remain here so that he could retrieve Bud himself, knowing very well that Jim would have liked to avoid the remnants of Karim under its feet.

Jim did one shake of his head. "It's … It's fine."

They ended up marching together to pick up Bud. When they reached the door, Jim halted in his steps and rested his weight on the hallway wall.

Jim could not enter.

Very well.

Spock entered the room, expecting to be numb at this point since he knew exactly what to expect. His eyes were locked to plastic corneas as he walked further inside. The squeeze on his chest tightened … even though it was all of seven seconds.

When they returned to their gathered items, Spock opened the door to begin piling them in one of the trucks. Finally complete with the task, they began to retrieve some of the weapons from the arsenal and placed them there, both him and Jim holding one of their own.

Spock never started the engine, his fingers resting on the keys. Jim did not question his hesitation, staring ahead in his own thoughts. If Spock hadn't started the vehicle in the next hour, he was sure that Jim would not have noticed.

He exited the vehicle instead. "Come."

Jim turned away from the empty space and lifelessly nodded.

Spock refused to leave without honoring those that have kept his humanity, and his Vulcan teachings in a world that tested it perpetually. They were a part of him, and he had to acknowledge their passing. Standing in front of the entrance with Jim by his side, he took in the sight of the place he would never enter again.

Strings of apologies surfaced his mind, desperate to utter them into the open once more despite its uselessness. It would be illogical.

Although Spock did not express his intentions, Jim was the first to speak, his eyes closed. "You have all lived enriched lives, filled with joy and most important of all … the capability to still love yourselves and all those around you, no matter the color of their blood." Jim sniffed soon after. "You were the best this planet had to offer. It is a loss for not only us, but also a loss for Earth."

These were the people that reminded him to keep faith in humanity. Because of them, he saw it for what it was – a wide spectrum, each person a subspecies with their own beliefs and traits.

Instead of deciding to speak in third person, Spock followed Jim's direction.

"We cannot bury every one of you. As expected in Terran tradition, we cannot carve your names on tombstones. With this said, we will always honor you and keep you in our memories. May your deaths bring you the peace you never found in your lives."

Jim opened his eyes and inhaled. Spock turned to him with a nod.

"It is done." He added.

Jim sucked in both his lips for a brief moment, looking away from the doors, the sight being too painful to continue to see it for the cemetery that it became.

"Until next time."

It was overly sentimental, thus illogical, however he recognized Jim's words as fitting. Their people never accepted a farewell of any kind – only the promise of meeting again.

"Until next time."

**.**

**.**

**.**

The first thing they did was scan every corner, and re-sealed Jim's apartment. After placing Bud in the corner of the living room, just as it had been stationed before, they concluded that they had one hour to do as much as they could before they had to close the front door again.

It was still possible that their coats were unable protect them during the night. From hereon out, everything would be unpredictable. Perhaps they could cover all the walls with fur ...

The blatant symbol of their murder would actually be one of their survival.

"… So much dust." Jim hissed as he swiped his finger on his kitchen counter.

The place was in need of a clean up. He thought the same when he was first here as Jim slept in his room. "It is expected from your absence."

Jim took a look around, dissatisfied by his surroundings. "We could just find a new place – a better one. We have the whole planet."

They only needed to fix a few things, like getting rid of the empty cans for one. "This is your home."

"Never thought of it as one. I just think of them as stepping stones."

He was not surprised. The nomadic life was the norm. He lived the same, except it was from hovercraft to hovercraft.

"Then why this apartment?" He asked, dropping his bag on the wall shelf. "When do you decide to leave?"

"The market's right here for one." Jim shrugged. "I also decide to leave when the plumbing goes to shit." With that said, Jim turned on the sink and sighed in relief when clean water came out.

"I see …"

Jim turned around, sniffing the coat. Spock shared his sentiment.

In his home, he could take sonic showers frequently with the option of utilizing water when needed. Warehouse 15 did not have those functions; therefore he adapted to consistent water showers. It was an uncomfortable sensation, but required to keep clean, especially after the use of these coats.

Another shower it was.

"I'll clean up the restroom and take a quick shower … umm make yourself at home, I guess."

Spock provided a simple nod, then Jim walked by him – disappearing from vision. They were no longer in the base, so he did not have to chase after Jim with built-up fear.

He wanted to …

Instead, he browsed the cupboards, remembering where certain items were and took out a plastic bag. He quickly placed what did not belong into it. Luckily, there was nothing degradable in the home, since him and council took to eliminating those whilst Jim gathered his things to join them to his new home.

When they left this place, their intention was to never return.

And here he was … arranging the place for him and Jim to live in.

Satisfied with his surroundings, he dialed the replicator. It had very few features, suggesting that Jim barely used it before. It beeped and showed a beverage.

He never tried it, and its presence made him speculate of its taste. With his fingers around the cup, he brought it to his lips, letting the yellow liquid trickle to his throat.

He still had no idea how Terrence favored the beverage that barely tasted of oranges. Maybe if it were fresh, then he would understand.

Looking under, he saw one hundred and ten water bottles and decided to place the medications near them. He sorted them by its usefulness and closed the metal doors. Jim gathered way more than required.

The place was bland and without a slither of Jim's personality in his surroundings. Bud was the only thing that showed him that Jim resided here.

The walls were white, the two black double cushioned couches in the center. The nailed wood covered the windows, unlike the tape covered window in Jim's room. The kitchen and main room were connected, a rather small, but safe environment. Jim's room was one door over, the restroom being next to it, not inside.

He heard the water in the restroom begin to trickle, indicating that Jim was finished with cleaning and started to clean himself.

He took off his fur and hung it near the front door. After a couple steps towards Jim's room, he turned back to retrieve it, realizing that it would be better if it remained nearby.

The room was rather empty, just like the rest of the place. There were drawers by the wall where Jim's weapons used to remain. He went back into the living room and gathered some sheets from his bag.

He made sure to set a day when they could both travel to the laundry center next to the supermarket to wash some clothes. That was if it still operated.

He placed the new sheets on top of the bed and sat down, deciding to take a moment before changing the sheets. The last time he was here, he knew nothing of Jim except for the fact that he was fascinating beyond measure.

Nostalgia was a foreign concept - Not only on this bed, but also from walking in the living room. He could still see Markus and Anastasia discussing Jim's mental state as they waited for the ill man to wake up.

It had only been hours, and he missed their banter. By his teaching, he was supposed to honor the dead, acknowledge the life that one had lived and function as if they had passed years prior.

He wondered how long it would take for his mind to act as if it had been years. Spock swiftly stood up and stripped the bed of its sheets, beginning to replace it with the ones he brought in.

He first started with the pillows, then the actual mattress.

Karim informed him that Jim preferred to sleep under two wool blankets. It was new information to him when mentioned because Jim never complained about the thin sheet on Spock's bed.

Now, he saw the two thick blankets that also needed washing on the bottom of the floor. Jim never utilized them the night they met either.

Was it because of the heat derived from Spock's body? Did Jim desire for two heavy blankets on top of him to replace the warmth of another person? Did the heavy materials lose their purpose because he entered Jim's life?

So much had changed.

Everyone in the base favored Jim within moments. Jim was wary of it all for a maximum of five minutes, integrating himself with ease … no longer lonely.

Was that why Jim became attracted to Camp Salvatus? To not only survive, but to also avoid being lonesome in this dying world? Just as he had been all alone after the Governor's announcement on Tarsus IV?

Spock sighed, deciding that he had to retract from his deep thoughts. They were not aiding him mentally in any way. He sat on the edge of the clean bed and proceeded to remove his boots.

His internal clock ticked for fifteen more minutes. That made Jim's absence a total of forty-five minutes. A swell of panic overrode his rationale as he jumped up on from the bed and decided to knock on the restroom door.

"Jim?"

Silence.

His fist was midair, ready to knock again, until he changed his mind to just push the door forward with his shoulder. He could have been wrong about Jim's current condition, but he would rather discover it for himself instead of having Jim's life at risk for the sake of manners.

He whisked the curtains to the side. He breathed in, letting his shoulder deflate because of the view.

Jim was physically okay, however mentally was a question. Spock noticed that Jim did not acknowledge his presence. The warm water trickling down Jim's skin as he sat on the ground, knees to chest with his arms wrapped around them.

Jim's eyes were glued to the tiles ahead.

Spock settled on the edge of the bathtub. Jim's name surfaced on his lips, except he wondered if it would have any influence. The term 'catatonic' came to mind, except he soon realized that Jim was 'daydreaming'.

Jim had an unfaltering frown, his eyes bloodshot again. The water streaming down was the illusion that covered Jim's tears.

He touched Jim's arm, momentarily shaken by the deep level of melancholic sorrow that cut through him. Spock instantly pulled back with a gulp. This was what Jim concealed from here earlier. The pain amplified his own.

It was raw, the skin dangling from the precise chops.

Finally noticing Spock's presence, Jim blinked and stared at Spock with widened eyes.

"Hey." He settled.

Stunned by the simple greeting, Spock ended up flinching. "You were here for forty-eight minutes. You did not answer my call."

"Oh. Sorry about that." Jim blinked again, unwrapping his arms around his legs and wiping his face. "I blanked out."

There was more to that statement. "I had to force my entry."

"It's not like we need a lock anyways."

Perplexed by Jim's behavior, Spock tilted his head to catch Jim's eyes, which were looking anywhere but near him. "You are avoiding the point."

_You are avoiding me._

"… can you get me a towel?" Jim whispered instead. "Please."

Not wanting to push Jim any further, he sighed and obliged. There were folded towels above the toilet with brown and beige colors. He stood up to grab one as Jim shut off the water.

By the time Spock turned around, Jim was already up, raking the wet strands of hair to eliminate the droplets of water. Taking in Jim's form, he was satisfied by Jim's improvements regarding health. It made him slightly wary if returning to this environment would subconsciously steer Jim to his old path.

Instead of just passing Jim the towels, he wrapped it around Jim, helping him out of the tub, not confident that Jim would not fall. After he dried Jim up, carefully making sure to not touch Jim's skin again. He also did so with Jim's hair, rubbing the fabric on the follicles. Jim shut his eyes while he did it with his frown forming slightly upwards.

"Thank you." Jim uttered in a low voice as if it were a secret between them and not for the world.

Jim never had to thank him. "None needed."

After a simple dinner in bed, Jim remained quiet. When it came time to sleep, Jim faced the wall.

Spock reached out, but Jim's voice stopped him.

"You really don't need my shit right now."

He refused for Jim to delve into his martyr complex. "That is my decision to make."

Jim's back stiffened. "Just … not tonight, Spock. It won't help either of us."

It was Jim's tone of defeat that forced Spock to stop his internal conflict. He decided that no matter what Jim had to say to him, Spock would hear it in due time. They were not going anywhere else.

**.**

**.**

**.**

Spock was indeed incorrect – something he would never get used to, no matter how many times it occurred.

Two days since then, and Jim only spoke two words.

It was 'Thank you' and 'Please'.

It would be their third night in these walls, and Spock sat on the couch as he stared at the bedroom doors. Jim was asleep.

If he were not so paranoid, he would have slept on the couch to avoid Jim's retreating back. The very fact that Jim turned away from him was a gesture that spoke volumes. Jim did not want to share his mind.

How would this have worked if they were bonded? Eventually Jim would have gathered the skill of blocking certain things, however with the early months – it would be complicated … perhaps impossible.

Jim was on autopilot, looking off into the distance. Human grievance took time, he was aware of that – except this … this concerned him.

Spock was concerned for Jim.

He decided to start another book to distract him before he returned to bed. He needed a distraction from everything.

From Jim's current state.

From his own mind.

From the lights that had yet to return.

**.**

**.**

**.**

That morning, Spock reached some progress. He was not always hungry, but the ritual of breakfast, lunch and dinner was one he looked forward to and indulged in whenever he could.

When he entered the room with breakfast, he placed the tray between them. Their bed became their dining table, the bedroom becoming the living room at this point.

He straightened out his overly casual white T-shirt and sat down. He said his morning greetings, and as expected, Jim did not respond.

He switched his gaze from the food to Jim's face, whom happened to be staring right back at him – a curl to his lips that teased to form into that smile Spock so dearly missed.

"Yes, Jim?"

Jim's eyebrows were shot up, his medication still on his palms. "… your hair."

_My hair?_

Ah, he always pulled his hair up into a bun to clean himself. He just did not bother to get rid of the hair band, uninterested with wet strands tickling his neck. He wanted his ears and nape to breathe.

With that in mind, he took in Jim's hair and discovered that Jim's kept style was changing. The shorter side was getting longer, matching the rest of the hair. Jim's beard was the longest Spock had seen since they met. He imagined himself leaning forward and caressing Jim's cheek.

He refrained, informing Jim of why his own hair was in this current style to fill in the silence.

"I like it."

That was all Jim said for the rest of the day.

**.**

**.**

**.**

Another day, and Spock wanted to confront Jim.

A simple confrontation.

He did not wish to yell _'Talk to me!'_ or _'Do you see me?!'_

No. Just a simple _'Talk to me, please'_ or _"I miss you already'_ or _'Do not deprive me of us.'_ Any of those would have been sufficient.

He stared at his room door from the seating room couch, imagining how such a conversation would go. Perhaps Jim would deny everything, stating that nothing was wrong.

He loathed the statement _'I'm fine.'_

It was something he heard his mother tell his father. It was his first exposure to illogical behavior. She was clearly lying.

That simple statement carried a variety of meanings, always changing to fit the situation.

 _'I'm fine,'_ was subliminal. When one said it out in the open, it mostly meant _'I am troubled, however I do not wish to burden you - '_ or _'I am troubled, and you are the cause of it all. Discussing it with you in order to seek a conclusion would be illogical - '_ or _'I am troubled, and you are not and never will be capable of helping me with my predicament or emotional imbalance. You could not possibly comprehend – '_

Either of those options was plausible.

When he finally entered the room, he saw Jim reading his favorite tale. It took another fifteen minutes to realize that Jim was not reading at all, forgetting to turn the page completely.

**.**

**.**

**.**

With the lack of contact, his ability to detect Jim's emotions and whereabouts began to diminish. As he stated to Jim, they were not bonded and everything could disappear with time.

It scared him.

This was first brought to his attention when he woke up in an empty bed. He was alone in the room, his body unable to sense the emptiness beforehand. Within seconds, he heard footsteps. The room door creaked open and Spock sat up, slightly on the defense. He could barely feel Jim anymore.

Should he ignore it? Should he say something instead, simply asking Jim to cease this behavior? Would Jim speak to him today if he tried?

He was confused as to which action would provide amenable results. Jim has been and always will be an anomaly to him.

The door opened wider, revealing two hands that were holding a tray. He was relieved.

He would ask himself why he was anxious to begin with later.

As his eyes flicked up Jim's torso, what he saw almost made his jaw drop. His reaction was an unreasonable one – it was a simple alteration after all.

Nonetheless, he had never seen that face before.

Jim sat in front of him, rubbing the back of his neck. Jim seemed … he seemed nervous?

Why would Jim be nervous?

Jim was beautiful.

"Look at me." He softly asked.

Spock was finally allowed to look into Jim's eyes for the first time in days. He missed Jim.

He missed them.

"I am very pleased by this change in your appearance." He began. "However, I am pleased by all the forms that are you."

Jim's smile began to form on his clean face. "A simple 'I like it' would have sufficed."

This was progress.

"No one wants to live with some kind of caveman."

"You and I have seen individuals with a barbaric nature. Do not measure yourself on a scale that you are light-years away from."

**.**

**.**

**.**

Memory foam was a fascinating invention that has helped humans through physical pain and depression. It shaped along the body, its task to make sure that the one resting on it was undisturbed.

Spock almost jerked out of his bed when Jim touched his shoulder. He did not feel Jim change positions at all. It had been six days, and Spock was touch deprived, mind and body.

"Spock …"

He turned around and faced Jim.

Jim opened his mouth three times, words having yet to leave them. With his connection with Jim fading, he used the knowledge he had gained about the man.

After taking in Jim's features, he concluded that Jim wanted to resume their normal sleeping position. Without a word, he wrapped his arms around Jim and pulled their bodies closer.

"I'm sorry." Jim whispered in the crook of Spock's neck.

"There is nothing to apologize for." He instantly declared.

"I shut down, and you needed me." Jim sighed, regret coating that statement.

It was an absurd one. He held Jim tighter, relishing in the warmth and the touches Jim gifted to him. "You are with me now."

Their night continued with red sand in the distance as they rested in the garden outside of his diagonally roofed home. Both eleven-year old boys stared at the stars, an activity that Terra no longer allowed them.

Maybe everything would be fine.

**.**

**.**

**.**

Both of them were getting dressed for their first morning jog. The walls were closing in on them, so they decided to get some well-needed fresh air. They made sure to take the opposite route to not attract anything. Spock kept a dagger strapped to his thigh in case, uncomfortable with running with a gun.

Jim on the other hand kept a pistol to his waist – the safety on. As he stretched, he saw Jim bend down and lift up an orange recorder.

"Do you intend to bring that?"

Spock hoped that they could talk instead. He did not wish for Jim to poison his mind with such destructive words and speeches of a world that was. Humans normally listened to music during this activity … not those.

When Anastasia showed him the device, playing the first recording … it made Spock want to destroy the object. He feared that Jim would bring conflict between him and the council over Jim's fate. It was something he was not keen on experiencing again.

People like that never remained alone, isolated from groups and people with similar beliefs. They were in the majority.

In the end, there was the undeniable fact that Jim was ill, so they decided to wait it out and hear the truth from Jim's mouth.

_"I'm not xenophobic."_

"It was instinct to just grab it." Jim put it back in his bag. "It makes me wish I recorded some things of home, ya know? Now all I have is Camp Salvatus in here …"

Spock remembered them word for word. "We have our memories."

"My memories aren't like yours, Spock." Jim interjected. "Sometimes I'm scared I'll just lose it all in one night."

"You need not worry." He softly added. He was here, therefore no injury could occur to Jim under his watch. "Also, my eidetic memory is not always an advantage. There are memories that I could do without."

"We have alcohol for that." Jim raised a brow, standing up to straighten his shirt and rake his fingers through his hair. "I brought some chocolate." He added with a smirk.

"We are about to exercise." Spock stretched his right bicep, swinging his arm across his chest. "Your suggestion is rather counterproductive."

"My suggestions are always the best things to follow."

"Here is a suggestion. If you reach the two kilometer mark before me, then I will follow this suggestion of yours."

Seeing Jim's expression light up made Spock realize that this was the right thing to say. This was the Jim he loved.

"I'll kick your ass."

Spock continued his teasing. "You will not win the race from profanities alone."

Jim passed him, squaring his shoulders. "Oh, fuck you."

As they ran, Spock increased the challenge by telling Jim to reiterate the Vulcan words and phrases he taught him so far. There was one Jim needed more practice with before everything changed. When Jim pronounced the full phrase with perfection, Spock almost lost the race.

 _'Dif-tor heh smusma'_ – Live long and prosper.

**.**

**.**

**.**

Spock ended up as victor, uninterested in losing his control from any cocoa substance. Also, his loss would have provoked Jim to indulge in alcohol, which he was not in favor of.

They both needed to remain alert. Both were unaware of what could take place.

"I was beginning to think that this might be permanent." Jim walked into the kitchen as Spock started to make their lunch. "I was about to agree with Steven."

"I admit that I have considered the same." He said, understanding that Jim was speaking of the lights' absence.

Jim leaned by the far counter and crossed his arms, watching Spock stir the rice in the pot in contemplation. "But after what happened …"

"We can no longer predict their arrival." Spock aired out the distressing fact. "The weapons are still very much present."

"It's like they're _taunting_ us."

Before, Spock felt like prey. Ever since the first night the lights disappeared, their position morphed from prey, to a mouse in a maze, being thoroughly watched, critically analyzed, discussed and marked for a final grade.

"We're probably the only ones left..."

"Statistically, that would be impossible." Spock pointed out reasonably. Surely there were people who have developed the same methods as them, surviving – perhaps living with more than just fear.

He had the displeasure of meeting a faction of gathered Federation species that murdered any human to have crossed their paths – no longer for protection, but for revenge fed retaliation. They were not building a safety haven, but an army.

Jim was lucky to have never met them.

"We've seen a lot of impossible things happen, Spock." It was a cold reply that could not have been more truthful

Spock placed his spoon down. He wished to discuss something else. He wanted to discuss them, … except he never had the chance. Jim had already isolated himself in his room.

The action reminded him of how he used to behave during Jim's first two weeks in Warehouse 15. Steven reminded Spock that as Chief, he had to speak to the new guy sometime. Karim was more creative in his words, insulting Spock for not being _'nice'_ when the Lightrunner clearly wanted to have a civil discussion with him.

If they were still home, then Jim would have undoubtedly been faced with the same scrutiny for doing this to Spock. It was an extraneous thought anyways, because Jim was like this as a result of their deaths.

After a click of a button, he turned off the stove.

The clear memories of their voices and laughter would continue to haunt him if he did not cease this path of self-torture. Granted, they would never fade, but he could not allow them to randomly resurface with every simple similarity that occurred in his current life.

That was not a way to live.

**.**

**.**

**.**

After they ate their lunch, Jim made sure to drink his water with a painkiller. Spock offered to reduce the headache for Jim, but Jim refused, stating that Spock was spoiling him. 'I'll get over it,' he said.

Jim remained silent soon after, his attention drifting. Spock decided to fill in the air by continuing their stories. If they continued in order, then Jim would have been next. Spock took a second turn instead.

"During Spock's third year of attendance in the Academy, he was asked by Cadet Barns if he could tutor her. With the intention of gaining at least one acquaintance per his mother's advice, he obliged."

Jim sipped his water, looking at Spock with interest.

"When Cadet Barns arrived for her appointment, it became evident that she did not require further instruction." He continued. "She never did."

Jim coughed as he put his cup down on the tray and covered his mouth with a cough. Spock placed his palm of Jim's shoulder to aid in whichever way he could. None of it was needed. Apparently, Jim found his story humorous.

"Someone took a fancy to you."

Relieved, he continued in their exchange of experiences. "Uninterested in her romantic gestures, Spock appreciated her company because she provided conversation that he never experienced on Terra."

"It never hurts to make a friend."

"Indeed."

"Is she …? Jim coughed again, patting his chest.

Spock understood the intended question nonetheless. "She was preparing to station on Yorktown when we last spoke."

"That's great, Spock." Jim exhaled sharply.

Spock nodded, and then took a bite of his meal. Expecting Jim to revert back to his silence, Spock almost dropped his spoon when Jim started on his story.

"James did that once." Jim sadly smiled to himself. "He was eighteen years old. He didn't lie exactly, he just found a way to get to know someone more and took advantage of it."

Spock listened intently, imagining that moment in Jim's life.

"He went to the local pool to go for a swim. It was a new establishment, so he was excited. Unaware of where everything was, he ended up walking into the main office, instead of the shower rooms." Jim rolled his eyes, as if wondering how he could have made such an error. "The lifeguard thought he came for an interview. There was something about her that made him agree to one, since he had the certification anyways."

Spock raised a brow, which caused Jim to pat Spock's thigh with a light laugh.

"Don't look at me like that. He got a great job with a decent pay out of it. His tactics failed him, but he at least had a fun summer teaching kids to swim."

"Did she reject his advances?"

"Blatantly." Jim shrugged. "He can see why now. I know it's hard to believe, but he was very immature back then. Nothing like the astute, intelligent man he is now."

Spock rested his cheek on his palm, taking in Jim's reddening face and growing smile. Jim had to eventually remind Spock that he was staring, his shaved face becoming brighter.

Spock could already translate certain expressions from Jim through their link and by what he has learned of him. Now, he saw so much more.

"Spock wouldn't have been able to resist the fascinating phenomena that was James if they actually bumped into each other in the Academy."

The comment was one formed with hubris, however there was an underlying tone of truth there. Perhaps it was impossible for them to meet under what was considered normal circumstances in any universe.

**.**

**.**

**.**

That night, Jim placed his head on Spock's chest. He was breathing at a normal pace, still conscious.

Spock had one hand on Jim's back, stroking up and down in slow motions. There was not a pause in his movements for fear that Jim would retract for an unknown duration.

He was grateful for the warmth, the cold weather causing the occasional shiver. The heating system was not the best in the apartment.

Jim started to intertwine his fingers with Spock's unoccupied hand. Through their touch, he felt Jim's adoration flood him with enormous waves. The grief that should have made home within Jim was fading.

It was fading too fast – which led Spock to believe that most of it was obscured. This was something he never wanted Jim to do. He could simply ask, knowing full well that it would ruin the moment.

… and he did not wish to do that.

"We're grieving, Spock. There's no getting around that." Jim whispered, the lack of vocals making it evident that he was fatigued. "Time is a luxury, and I don't want to waste it not telling you what you mean to me in every moment."

Spock swallowed as he let his fingers connect with Jim's. He shut his eyes and exhaled, getting sucked into the kiss. He yearned for things to return to normal, but he could not deny that they were improving. To not accept it as is would be selfish.

**.**

**.**

**.**

"I doubt that this facility still functions."

"We'll just have to see."

Jim went ahead and pressed the button to power on one of the washers. The orange lights blinked and the water poured out with tremendous power.

"Perfect!" Jim exclaimed with a clap of his hands.

Both of them gathered their sheets and clothes with the cleaning agents they obtained from their own cabinets. It was a great convenience that this place could still work. Realistically, he was sure it would not last for long.

Because of Jim's desire for isolation, he never mentioned that they needed to complete this errand. Instead, he resorted to washing some things manually and letting them on their chairs outside.

If they could finish everything today, many things would be easier for them.

"The washing shouldn't take more than seven minutes, but I can't say the same for the dryers." Jim announced, stepping back from the machines. "We'll need to use two of each."

Spock agreed. Everything would be completed more efficiently if they did not overload the machines. They had the whole place to themselves after all.

Once they put everything in the two washers, they decided that they would need to utilize three dryers soon after. The towels needed their own or it would hinder the drying rate of the blankets.

"I used to just come here and play around with my PADD. I had every crossword game possible." Jim tapped the machine. "It's not like it was useful for anything else anyways."

Spock wondered if Jim messaged anyone with his PADD. He attempted to do so, always met with nothing in response. He would ask where Jim had it now since he never saw it, but he could discern that Jim most probably threw it away. Spock threw his away.

If only Spock, Terrence, Steven or Karim had found Jim before, then he would not have sat here for hours on end, on a device that had access to everything and nothing at all. It was a constant reminder of everyone's disappearance.

"We should browse around for something of the sort. Perhaps a game set?" He was already thinking of chess. Only one person expressed their interest in the game at the base, and that was Steven. Unfortunately, Steven was an easy opponent, not providing a slither of challenge.

This was not because Steven was a flawed player. Steven was a very skillful opponent indeed. The lack of challenge was because Steven only had three methods of playing. It was interesting in the beginning, their first match lasting forty-six minutes. Game after game, it morphed into a repetitive pattern. Spock mentioned it once, assuming that it was one of those pranks Steven adored so much.

Apparently, Steven was oblivious to everything.

For two months, Spock played alone, at first satisfied with the activity. He disposed of it soon after, too bothered to stare at it.

"That would be great." Jim replied. "It's a good thing we brought some books too."

This morning, Spock decided to place a few books on the shelf from their unpacked bags. He knew from the moment that him and Anastasia started to gather them, that they were rare.

This was made certain when Katherine suffocated Spock in a hug, excited for Dr. Seuss books and a one particular work by Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra.

Like Katherine, Jim adored that one in particular, claiming it as a classic when he retrieved it from the library. It was a tale of 'Don Quixote'. A man who created his own world with all the elements of the material he previously read. It was an epic journey through delusion, with him as the main protagonist, along with fabricated antagonists.

Spock thought the character to have genuine intentions, but also rather silly, whereas Jim was fascinated by what the mind could conjure on the verge of madness.

"Spock."

Jim called to him, sitting on the edge of the wide rectangular table in the far corner of the room.

Spock checked the washer next to him to see if it was operating, as it should, and then walked ahead.

Jim was at eye-level despite sitting down on the low table. "I think I have another way to pass the time."

The suggestion rolled off Jim's lips in a different tone. It was a tone that brought Spock closer by the magnetic pull of it.

"And what might that be." Spock replied in an identical manner, bending forward with clear intentions.

Jim's mischievous grin made its much-anticipated return.

Spock stayed still as Jim placed his warm palms on his cheeks. With their current closeness, he assumed Jim would lean in for a kiss. Spock remained silent when Jim rested his forehead against his.

The washers both halted for three seconds, the room void of noises before it began its rinsing. There was something on Jim's mind, and Spock was not able to find out for himself – the thought in the depths of Jim's consciousness.

When did Jim learn all of this?

How could Jim learn all of this without Spock's instruction?

Jim shut his lips and breathed in.

His concerns took a temporary pause when Jim sealed their lips together. It troubled Spock that Jim used this as a tactic to avoid whatever Jim clearly desired to discuss. Continuing with his decision to give Jim more time, he parted his lips in reciprocation, realizing just how much he needed this. He felt Jim's need for it.

He acknowledged that he craved it, desired for it and thought about it on occasion. He missed it so much that he wanted to climb on the table and lay Jim down. What was the expression Jim used …?

_'Climb like a tree'_

Jim was the one who pulled back for more air. He gave Jim some obligatory seconds before chasing him forward, not wanting to stop for another moment. He once wondered how Jim would feel without the beard.

Jim's skin was remarkably smooth under his fingers …

In all their moments, and even in this one, they both had to be alert when outside, always a hint of dread between them. How was he supposed to be aware of his surroundings when he became inebriated by the taste of Jim?

He saw Jim drop his gaze to Spock's lips, forming another grin. Spock yearned for more of those smiles, kisses, touches … just Jim.

"You feel so fucking good." It was more of a throaty slur than a clear statement.

Spock could hear the pumping of his own heart, and feel the much-welcomed heat rising in his body.

One palm moved away from Spock's face and through his hair, stimulating his scalp. The sensation became too much, Spock responded by placing himself in a short torture by separating himself from Jim. He hopped himself on the table.

He rested a hand on the side of Jim's neck, and used his other one to nudge Jim's head up by the chin.

"Then let's continue."

And so they did for the remaining five minutes until the washers rang above the other, its echoes bouncing on the walls. Spock held Jim close, preventing him from stopping the alarms, too immersed in their gestures of affection.

This was what humans called 'making out', and it was extremely addictive.

With their responsibility too complicated to ignore, they jumped down to toss their portion of clothes in the dryers, separating the towels from the sheets.

There was a bang, a bang, followed by another quick bang. By the time the machines started to circulate, they locked their swollen lips, no longer using their words. They could not let go, nor did they wish to. Ignoring the small worry in the back of Spock's mind, he acknowledged that he would be a fool to not take everything Jim offered him for now.

**.**

**.**

**.**

With the vibration of the vehicle under him, Spock looked away from the road and noticed that Jim was once again deep in his thoughts. Jim had his palm under his chin, staring into the tangerine sky.

"What do you see?"

Not in a sense of, what did Jim literally see because all Spock would have to do was look towards the road again. His query was concerning what Jim saw when he looked outside. It was Jim's personal perspective that he wished to understand.

"We keep using the term 'the end of the world', and I can't help but think of how inaccurate that is." Jim replied calmly. "Before and even after all of this, every day, hour, minute – someone out there experiences the end of their world, but the whole world continues to …well … continue."

That was a morbid … and yet unique point of view.

"But the reality is that this planet is very much alive, even though there'll be a time when nothing will be recognizable. Animals' roam free, the oceans are probably healthier than they have ever been, and the birds are still in the sky, flying undisturbed. Tarsus IV was the end of the world, no longer habitable. Earth, on the other hand, can still provide. Mankind is a part of the world, just not the whole world. Who are we to equate our end to that of Earth?"

Jim's posture became slumped as he sat further onto his seat.

"Many of us are on other planets and ships. With our resources and allies, there's no doubt that we'll find another home. I just hope that whether if the Federation tries or not, there will be a time when a few return. We might be a distant memory of what was by then - Just the people who have emerged from the darkest of caves, to creating invincible artifacts that will point to the stars for millennia to come. They'll know that we were people who not only had many flaws, but also had the capacity to see beauty in all its forms. Earth will wait here, healthy and ready for us to start again whenever we can."

**.**

**.**

**.**

Spock knew something was different when Jim embraced him from behind as he sorted the dishes. A light kiss was planted on his neck after Jim moved his strands away.

His full name rolled off Jim's tongue with impeccable pronunciation.

The effect of Jim calling him by his base title was incomparable to this moment. Gripping the plate, he asked Jim to repeat it through their revived connection.

The sweetness of Jim's chuckle, followed by his name escaping those curved lips again, brought Spock to a stupor.

Jim then brought his mouth over Spock's ears. The next statement that traveled through Spock's ear canal must have falsely translated in his brain.

The plate dropped inside the sink.

He wanted to ask for repetition in hopes to bring more clarity, knowing very well that the query was illogical since he heard it with every syllable. He asked nonetheless, still not believing his current situation.

"I understand why you're afraid of a bond, concerned of what it could do to me in the future, so I'm offering the deepest bond a human can make."

Spock managed to regain control of his limbs and told his legs to move so that he could turn around. With Jim's face now in his view, he could see Jim's sudden nervousness. The request came out so fearless; that this expression of vulnerability showed Spock that Jim must have contemplated on this for a long period of time.

"I mean … it's a couple of words and nothing will change us …" Jim had already given Spock his everything. " … but I want to do it." He added with a stutter. "For real this time."

Spock was appalled that he was only capable of blinking. He was probably gaping. His search for words was fruitless.

He was … stunned?

Shocked?

Flabbergasted?

"Will you do me the honor of marrying me?"

He had been a fool. It could not have been clearer that Jim wanted to spend the rest of his life with him. He promised himself long ago that he would not only survive, but also live. The very request of asking Jim to accompany him for breakfast was the beginning of it all.

How was he living by refusing himself the very thing they both hankered for?

He has thought about this, and Jim respected his wish to think of this more thoroughly. His biggest fear was dying before Jim, thus exposing Jim to the consequences a human would struggle to strive through daily. The consequences a Vulcan would have difficulties striving through.

It was a risk.

But then again … even their simple actions have become a risk. Everything outside and now possibly inside these sealed walls was a risk.

Finally finding his sense, Spock said the first thing that came to mind.

"Only if I am allowed the honor of becoming your bond mate." He declared, shutting his mouth immediately to not retract the statement in his next breath.

This was his decision, and it was final.

The answer must have taken an extra moment to process because Jim's expression changed into stone. Soon, Jim blinked as he took a step back. His right hand slightly trembled when he brought it to his forehead, his eyes bug wide with a dropped jaw.

Spock stopped breathing, carefully analyzing Jim's behavior. He could see Jim smiling from ear to ear in … disbelief. Jim's eyes were shining with its new layer as he completely melted in a moment of blatant happiness. Spock was in disbelief of it himself.

The prospect of a bond mate was always met with the thought of someone that would _tolerate_ him. His parents attempted to find someone of compatibility, ultimately ceasing their endeavor altogether after perpetual failures on his part.

As a child, he deduced this to simply not being wanted. Those words were literally expressed to him once by a potential mate.

"Fuck, Spock – you made me cry!" Jim shouted as he wiped his finger under his right eye.

"I apologize. That was not my intention." He was exhaled, truly shaken by Jim's ecstatic response.

This was what he was holding back from Jim, a person he loved with every fiber of his being and with the entirety of his katra.

"You have a gift for surprising me, I swear …" Jim wiped his face with one quick motion. "Yes."

Three letters that sealed their fate.

"Then my answer to your proposal is 'Yes'."

Jim teasingly raised a brow. "Yes?" He walked closer to Spock again, looping his forearms on Spock's shoulders.

There was no reason to wait. "I propose that we do this tonight."

"Or we could do it right here in this kitchen."

Spock admitted to himself that he was seduced by the idea.

"But I'm happy with tonight." Jim added, placing a light kiss on the tip of Spock's nose.

He deeply wished that he could inform his parents of this significant moment of his life - That they no longer had to incessantly worry about it anymore.

He was happy with someone that was happy with him. It was an unforeseen gift – one that he would cherish.

**.**

**.**

**.**

Cold and wet, Spock had his hands on each side of the sink, tightening his grip on the metal as he stared at his reflection. He barely recognized the man in front of him.

The day he became eight years of age, was the day his parents informed him that they would halt their search for a bond mate. They decided to wait until his mind could tolerate the challenges of merging multiple minds in order to choose a mate.

The truth was, the day he promised himself that he would never be ashamed of who he was, was the same day he lied to his parents for the first time. He lied with the priestess in his presence.

In his final ceremony, he sat across his thirty-eighth prospective mate. For reasons unknown, it came to his and T'Pring's knowledge that they were compatible. After the initial discovery, her feelings of disgust seeped through within seconds.

_"What is the source of this feeling?"_

_"It derives from my refusal to mate with a half-human."_

_"We are compatible."_

_"Then I will live my life as if this had never taken place. When it comes time for the ritual, I will initiate the Kal-i-fi."_

After the separation of their meld, Spock informed his parents that the connection had failed. T'Pring sat there with a gaped expression. With his words, she was not required to speak, only nod in confirmation. To avoid her mating with a half-human, she had no qualms of following his illogical, half-human behavior.

Spock realized that the image reflected on the mirror was a disservice to that promise, despite his logical intentions to not attract attention.

He yanked the mirror cabinet open, revealing the three white shelves behind it. The ruby scissors were long and thin, specifically for cutting hair. He grabbed the automatic razor soon after and pressed the button, letting the vibration dance through his whole arm.

With a shut of the glass door, Spock was met with his coal, dark eyes.

**.**

**.**

**.**

Archer gave McCoy a brief glance before returning his eyes back to the SIM. The respected volume that had to be used by whomever entered this room was abandoned when the doctor slammed his hand on the table.

"End the final round! This is becoming pointless," was the first thing McCoy said to them. "Now!"

It was reaching the twenty-eighth day. The longest a SIM was allowed to be conducted. Non-Enterprise crewmembers started on their tests in separate rooms.

For the first time McCoy wasn't met with an argument, only the promise that if he returned again, he would be removed from his position, thus making him unable to overlook the remaining Enterprise crewmembers' SIM. It was the very reason he asked to join in the beginning.

They were ending the SIM by their decision, not from McCoy's demands. Archer's opinion remained the same. He shouldn't have been thinking of the length of SIMs, but of renewing the ban altogether.

"And cease your harassment of the SIM operators."

"They're the ones that are inserting things like Don Quixote and horror stories that we both know are beyond sneaky. Steven's glitch is the only acceptable one, because it's no one's job to play chess with Spock! What about the multiplying deer and the weapons randomly showing up in supermarkets during the _day_? It's like they want this SIM to be INVALID!"

"It has been handled. There won't be any more glitches."

The very first glitch was Steven. By the time it was fixed, Spock already got rid of his chess set. Thankfully the half-Vulcan never mentioned it again.

Longer SIMs always came with that risk.

"But those weapons recent actions haven't been a glitch." McCoy snarled, clearly showing his disdain. "And by that, I mean Warehouse 15."

"Excuse you?"

"You murdered all of them, and you didn't even give Spock and Kirk the peace of knowing how it happened. That was not a glitch." The doctor concluded. "Everyone in this knows it was a command."

"It was." Komack confirmed.

All heads turned to McCoy when they discovered that he would not be leaving anytime soon, just standing there with a look of scorn.

"… you knew." McCoy hissed.

"What did we know exactly?"

"The Commander has been through a lot. He may not show it, but any blind person would know it. … and you all mix that up, with a person of the _Miracle Nine?_ Have you lost your minds?"

"They command one of our best ships. They have to be able to tolerate matters such as these. They created this themselves, so they'll endure this."

McCoy cocked his head, and switched his gaze to Counselor Viik. He took in her eyebrows, her ears and erect posture.

"Wow." He scoffed, his disgust more towards Viik than all of them. It was an unfair sentiment.

The doors slid shut after McCoy's exit. Archer knew very well that if the door were a manual one, the doctor would have forcefully shut it, making the walls shake with a dramatic shutter.

**.**

**.**

**.**

"Jim." Spock called to the pacing man.

"Okay, so I was thinking that it would be impossible to become legally ordained, because there's paperwork included, and there's no one to give it to … since they're all well … _dead_. I mean, if they were alive, no one would sign them. That would be hilarious." A short laugh escaped from Jim. He was walking back and forth in the living room, aware of Spock's presence but not actually looking at him. "We'd only need them for legal reasons, but there's no law, rendering it all useless."

Spock unclasped his hands behind his back, and let his shoulder's drop. The breeze of the air on his naked neck made him chill.

"It doesn't matter obviously, but it would have been nice, you know?" Jim continued, his first and index finger patting his lips.

Spock could not believe that he allowed his mind to think of the gesture in the most obscene way.

"What about you? Any priests or legally ordained people that should conduct this? Would it matter with … you?" Jim asked, finally stopping in his steps. "Whoa."

Jim's sudden stare was one that made Spock want to cross his arms, providing some sort of barrier. The stern line of Jim's lips pursed out into a smile as he sauntered to close the wide space between them.

He blinked when Jim lifted his fingers to softly touch his angled sideburns. Those digits went behind his earlobe to feel the short strands on the back of his neck. This was the same look he received when Jim was staring at him in the halls of his home during their shared memories.

"Am I correct in the assumption that you are in favor of this style?"

"Yes." Jim answered with a giant grin, accompanied by a light chuckle. "But I should also let you know that I'm pleased by all the forms that are you."

This was his traditional default cut. He was already pleased with it by what it represented. Considering this, he knew that Jim's reaction would weigh more than all of that.

"You shouldn't have had to hide to begin with." Jim added with a shake of his head.

Terrence always told him that he was lucky to have been able to 'pass' as human, unlike the others who had skin of shades that reflected the ocean or added hair follicles enough to cover a bear.

No matter how many things they changed, their presence would attract a hoard of people who decided to judge.

He did what he had to do because he was able to do it.

However, this phase in his life was over.

Jim stepped back with a gratified expression, truthful to his statement – only an expected amount of worry that was immediately crushed down.

He noticed Jim's attire as well. It was a simple black undershirt with a navy full-zip jacket that he had never seen Jim wear before. It fitted better than the worn out brown one. Spock was already familiar with Jim's pants since he owned at least four of them, courtesy of his sole reign at the FG market.

Jim's boots were clean as well.

Spock himself was in clothes he retrieved within the last couple of months with Markus. He was in his usual long faux leather coat with a black undershirt and dark grey denim with black thread linings. Everything he owned prior to the invasion was in his old home. The clothes he should have worn for such an occasion probably had layers of dust on the surface, unless someone took refuge and decided to dispose of them.

After he felt the growing immense hatred from those around him. He listened to his instincts and disappeared. He abandoned everything with the clothes on his back after two days post third attack.

"To answer your query, a priest or priestess' presence would be convenient however, it is not obligatory for I am suitable to conduct the ceremony myself." He said, trying to not be distracted by the fact that Jim smelled absolutely divine.

"Perfect. We'll do great all by ourselves."

**.**

**.**

**.**

It was Jim's idea to bring the fur coats along since they decided to do this outside. None of them were keen on the idea of wearing them, so they just brought them along and placed them in the ground when they found a position under the naked sky.

They had thirty minutes before the lights' arrival … if they arrived at all.

They had also decided to say their own vows, instead of following the traditional ones normally used in a Terran wedding ceremony.

Jim stood across from him, with a closed lip smile that resulted in squinted eyes. The diminishing rays of sunlight glowed over him, leaving Spock in awe.

"It wasn't long ago that I promised myself that I would remain alone. It was safe. It was simple. When we first met, you terrified me. You broke into my home and spoke of peace, which in my book is a sign of someone who is certifiably insanity."

This was the Jim he missed – always attempting forms of humor with a quick laugh. Spock discovered how much he truly feared its disappearance when looking at this again.

"Then … I went from being terrified of my own life to being terrified of the hope you represented and sucked me into. I don't regret meeting you, and I don't regret meeting them. In a place composed of only bad times and continuous challenges, you show me that there is still good."

In the beginning, there was a second when Spock entertained the idea that Jim might have been angry. Not necessarily angry with him, but angry that he brought Jim into this life - A life where he felt love from many … only to have it all robbed away. He assumed that this was one of the reasons as to why Jim decided to remain isolated.

It was in that next second that he disposed of the thought, seeing it for the insult that it was. Jim was eternally grateful for being a part of Warehouse 15.

"Now, I find myself vowing to never be alone again. I vow to remain by your side, to love the heart and precious mind you have gifted to me for the rest of my life. We have endured the worst - we have endured sickness and if everything were to shut down tomorrow, then we will endure poverty because if we did it separately, then we can definitely do it together." Jim added after a deep breath, smiling back from his shiver. "I … I choose you."

How was he to speak when Jim stole the words from him?

"I – " Spock quickly inhaled through his nostrils, shocked that he was actually nervous. "My mind and the very essence of me recognized that you were the one before I consciously admitted it to myself. I have never foreseen myself loving another unconditionally outside of those who raised me. You are my shelter and my light. Nothing has been simple, and yet we have chosen this path knowing that there is no other." He could not deny that it was nervousness, however he welcomed the sensation. This was real. "I take you as my bond mate, promising to remain by your side, never alone. With this bond, I will seal our link with one another until death do us part."

He took one step forward; close enough to float his fingers above Jim's temples. He nodded, a gesture to ask permission. Jim nodded in response with slightly parted lips, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

_My mind to your mind … My thoughts to your thoughts._

The connection he had with Jim was one that they utilized many time before. It was always limited. Nevertheless, it was always there. Their minds were accustomed to it, thus deducing that completing it would not be a difficulty. Their compatibility was pre-determined and never an issue.

What Spock did not expect was for the intense sensations to reside in his heart after its completion. This was what he was missing all along.

He saw the weapons that invaded the planet, piercing through the borders on their bridge, reducing it to ashes – creating another one, a less limited one. Out of both of them, Spock was the one who had more to reveal with its annihilation. Spock had access to Jim's blaring thoughts, impossible to ignore however Spock was the one who had the ability to only show Jim exactly what he wanted to share.

Jim expressed his fascination of the bridge's endless length and the colors he could not name. His smile was one that would provide warmth in the coldest of weathers. Spock wanted all of Jim, and he received it by willingly giving all of himself in return.

He would never dare give it up.

"This is the Vulcan heart." He declared in a low voice. "This is the Vulcan soul. This is our way."

By tradition, that should have been the end of the ritual. The bond was complete, and Jim accepted it with wide arms.

…he was not done.

"And, I love you."

They chose each other. Not because there was no one else, but because … there was _no one else._

**.**

**.**

**.**

The glowing, interchanging hues never made their appearance. It was the way Jim stared out to the empty sky that gave Spock the idea to grab one of their folded blankets and set it to the ground. In the apartment, Spock took a moment to compose himself. His hands were trembling. He quickly made sure that it was not a reflection of Jim's illness.

He discovered that it was his nervousness manifesting into a physical response. With a quick shake, he continued in his task. As he walked to the shelf, he could still feel Jim. It was a different experience.

Jim was not in his view, however he could not only feel Jim, but also feel Jim's emotions more clearly. They were of a complex mixture of exhilaration and despondency. They were clashing, sparks erupting from the impacts.

Spock could hear the screeching in his head.

It was expected.

The cheers of the base were supposed to accompany them – various colorful profanities from Katherine, whistles from Steven, howls from Markus and a calm applause by Anastasia.

Terrence would have not only accepted the situation for what it was, but expressed his happiness with a subtle upward movement of his lips.

Karim and Zack with the rest of all the others in their age group would have chanted about a tree, a carriage and babies for added humor. It would have been Savitra's hug, along with Kumar that would make him feel adored, even though it was slightly uncomfortable at times. It would be Clayton that finally separated them with a smile.

In a room of people he felt nothing from, he would always feel everything in the most human way.

When he returned, he brought a bottle of water and Jim's medication with the blanket. Jim accepted the pills and water. Dr. Cardenas was very keen and making them, despite her annoyance of their lower efficiency.

It was her love for Jim that made her oblige such a request. Jim despised hypo-shots, and he was very vocal about it.

"How did we end up here?" Jim asked, his head resting right next to Spock's, while they stared at the sky that was hidden from all the turmoil that had taken place below.

"I do not know where to begin." Spock truthfully answered. "Michelle would have been extremely emotional from this sight."

"Michelle?"

Oh. "Dr. Cardenas." Spock clarified.

"She never told anyone her name..."

It was a deliberate choice on her part. "Only Terrence and I knew."

"Ah." Jim said. "I think she would have allowed us to lock her access from the diet logs completely, just to get one night of this. I took it for granted, Spock."

"I have as well." Why would he not take it for granted? The preview to the Universe had been waiting for him every night since the time of his birth. Sometimes it was in his sight at every hour when he resided on the Enterprise. 

The first time he saw the night without the weapons, he had to ask Terrence for confirmation because he doubted his own eyes. Its absence was a lesson that taught him that the stars were never guaranteed.

"I have another term," said Spock as he continued to take in the rare sight. "Ashayam"

Jim snapped his lips before testing out the endearment. It was an easier one. When Jim repeated it exactly the same, satisfaction rushed through Spock.

It was also Jim that was satisfied with his progress, fully aware of it without needing Spock's recognition.

Jim also did not have to ask for the meaning as he usually did in their lessons. Spock thought the word 'beloved' again and again, resulting in Jim whispering its translation.

"This is incredible."

"There still remains the possibility that you may be irritated from this in the future – "

"Never." Jim interjected immediately. "I was already managing it before. I'll just keep learning."

"I do not doubt that." Jim's improvements were magnificent. He heard of its complications from his mother, however it seemed that Jim did not experience identical problems.

"I have one."

Spock rested his weight on his elbow to gaze down at Jim with a questioning stare. "I am fluent in Standard, Jim. Unless there is another …"

Jim looked up with a smile, both his hands behind his head as a pillow. "It's Vulcan. At least I hope it is."

Spock's interest was peaked to chart crashing levels.

"Hopefully I don't butcher this." Jim said after an exhale. _"Taluhk nash-veh k'dular."_

Spock sensed Jim's nerves running as he awaited a response.

… How?

There were no books with the Vulcan language within the base. He did not teach Jim this himself.

And it was perfect…

Jim had been practicing, and Spock just realized from which source. He wished he could express his gratitude to Michelle Cardenas. She would never know.

"I cherish thee." Spock translated, moved by not only the words, but from the fact that it derived from Jim's heart and own intentions.

Jim gleamed with adoration. "I do."

**.**

**.**

**.**

Spock jerked awake in his bed after a pillow was thrown on his face. He was taken aback after the attack of the fluffy compartment.

"Your chivalry will be the death of me, Spock!"

Spock rubbed his eyes, and automatically motioned his fingers through his hair, half-expecting the long strands to meet his skin. As his vision adjusted, he saw Jim standing in front of him with arms crossed.

Last night, Spock and Jim watched the stars for another hour until Jim fell asleep, curling closer to Spock. When he concluded their night, he carried Jim back inside the home and took off his shoes, preparing him for bed.

"I'm going to take a shower." Jim randomly announced. "You coming?"

He could smell the grass and sand on him. He may as well clean himself with Jim. "Yes." Spock responded without further deliberation.

"Good." Jim stated as he walked away, tossing his jacket on the floor. "Because you're going to fuck me on the wall."

The door shut, leaving Spock alone with a shock that should have been impossible with their bond.

It was a minute later that Spock could feel the heat rise in his abdomen, creeping lower and lower. Just the image of Jim's naked body covered in droplets was enough to make him spring up from his bed, exiting the room with his shirt already plastered on the ground.

He walked passed the restroom's closed door, hearing the running shower. With large strides, he zipped open one of his bags and picked up a kit he retrieved from the base.

After grabbing the bottle of lubricant, he was hit with a wave of crashing arousal. Its speed and strength made it identical to that of an attack. Spock covered his face with his unoccupied hand and groaned from the sensation overload. Jim was taking advantage of this connection with an amount of skillfulness that electrically shocked him.

Not bothering to zip the bag back up, he kicked it back inside and closed the double doors, letting them clang on the metal.

He got rid of his pants with a quick motion once he went past the restroom door. The heat of the room and the aroma of a subtle lavender blend infiltrated his nostrils.

Jim moved the curtain past his face, showing only his head with his tongue out. "Sorry. You just took too long."

There would be revenge.

Spock yanked the opaque white plastic curtain to the side and let the warm water tickle his skin. He did not respond with words for none was needed. He already gave Jim his words, and would show him again at another time. For now, he hungered for contact.

Their clashing kiss was met with open lips; audible gasps piercing right through the other as Spock gently pushed Jim on the wall with his palms on the warm bare chest.

He shivered with every touch, their amount of these moments irrelevant to its erotic impact. Jim's hands were on his neck, then slithering down to follow the droplets on his skin. By now Spock knew what Jim favored. He bit at Jim's lower lip with a moan, causing Jim to move their hips together with more enthusiasm.

The utter wanting and heat between them arose when he thought it could not get any higher. Jim's shaken moans were ones many humans would classify as addictive. It was a siren call that magnetically pulled sexually fed wicked thoughts and actions. Spock was well aware of it, for he was its victim.

The taste of Jim on his tongue was one he paid particular interest to when they shared the same air. He feasted on it while clinging to Jim's body, their hardening erections in the company of the other. With one rolling movement, Jim tipped his head back on the wall with another echoing expression of pleasure.

Spock had his lips parted with a gasp as he did it again… and again. They were ceaseless in their urge to feel the other. He rested his mouth on the crook of Jim's neck as he tickled at Jim's sensitive skin with his own moans.

His breathing became ragged when Jim tightened his hold on Spock's hair without mercy. One hand slipped from Jim's waist and traveled lower to the organ that twitched for attention.

The act of Jim wilting because of him was something he could repeat for eternity, giving and receiving pleasure with the one he loved.

Jim had his eyes closed for a brief moment, his mouth open and feeling all of Spock's desires. With one torturing slow stroke, he felt his shoulders become victim to Jim's nails, holding on for some form of balance.

He did not halt his movements, thoroughly enjoying the sway of Jim's hips against his grip. He returned his lips on Jim's, noticing that Jim could not keep up, unable to speak, let alone kiss.

The view of Jim under streams of water with that very expression would fuel his desires for the rest of his days. Spock buried his face under Jim's jaw, creating an invisible trail with his tongue. The moans went through his ears and vibrated under his mouth.

He was incredibly curious as to what his back would look like after a few hours.

"Damn it …" Another yelp prevented another word when Spock placed his thumb on Jim's wet slit, applying pressure to the sensitized head. "Please just – "

The loud mental beg for him to be inside Jim completed the rest of the interrupted statement. He let go, and Jim exhaled in a response, half with relief and half with disappointment. He was not the only one that starved for the other.

"This would be safest if you turned around." Jim's knees were already in a weakened state.

Jim placed a quick kiss on his lips and obliged with his usual smirk.

Spock squeezed the lubricant on his hand. He should have started to prepare Jim within seconds, but he stood there with the water falling on his back. He gazed at Jim's form and watched how the muscles flexed under every droplet falling down the perfect canvas.

"Do you have any idea how weird it is to see myself in your eyes?" Jim rhetorically asked. "Because … shit. I don't think I can ever get used to that part."

It was something Jim had to get used to, because Spock would be lying to himself if he said he would ever stop.

Jim's fingers curled on the wall with a closed in moan. It was the signal Spock needed to move forward and touch Jim's skin once more, rubbing gently near the entrance.

The pressure of his cock increased when he began to stretch Jim with his sensitized fingers.

"Right … yes, right there." Jim instructed, his body moving backwards to Spock's.

All of Jim's words of encouragement were accompanied by those same internal whispers, clouding Spock's sense of reason. The contractions of Jim's whole body were extremely provoking. He muffled his groan by biting down on Jim's shoulder.

"… oh my god, Spock." Jim breathed out, his voice ragged. "Spock? Spock – Fucking hell!"

Spock continued to stroke with precision, thoroughly taking pleasure from it. He was supposed to prepare Jim, not bring him to completion just from it.

By the time he removed them, he aligned his phallus under Jim, ready to -

"I swear I won't last long – " Jim was mumbling to himself at this point.

Spock did not tease Jim like he did last time, and instead moved forward with one deep thrust, causing those mumbles to becoming hardened groans. He grazed those nerves with each motion, relishing in the profanities and gasps that were all Jim.

Jim did not require gentleness, which was what he expected in their first sexual interaction. They also had injuries to pay attention to then.

Now, everything was different. He still had to manage his strength, not wanting to hurt Jim, but he did not treat him as if he were fragile either.

He did not refrain from his titillating sounds as well, knowing now that Jim favored them. He held Jim close by wrapping his hand around Jim's abdomen, his other hand lightly stroking Jim's erect organ simultaneously. If he added more pressure, Jim would have surely fallen.

Jim's lewd curses were derived from the confusion of whether to roll his hips forward or backwards to sink down on Spock, the deluge sensations evident in his whimpers. With each thrust, Spock clung on tighter, luxuriating in this moment of them sticking together. The gratification of it all was engulfing him completely.

It was the way Jim clenched around him and breathed out his name with added syllables that made it very clear that Jim was on the edge – close to giving in.

The oncoming orgasm they fused together never failed to make them quake. He could not discern if it was because he got a glimpse into Jim's or vice-versa.

It was not long until he felt Jim spill into his hand in warm streams. As expected, Jim's legs weakened, no longer providing enough support.

His breaths on Jim's shoulder were heavy as the shattering waves coursed through him, sparking at his nerves erratically.

He had to inform Jim that when they began to clean the other, it would be amenable to do it sitting on the floor. He did not expect his own legs to betray him.

**.**

**.**

**.**

"We have plans."

It was instinctive to search for more of an elaboration from Jim, but it was being actively blocked.

"It's a surprise." Jim added to his vagueness. "Get ready."

And so Spock did, putting on his outdoor garments. When ready, he zipped his boots and climbed into the truck that Jim apparently decided to drive.

He wondered if Jim knew how to maneuver a vehicle, since this was the first time he'd seen Jim in such a position.

Jim feigned a look of surprise. "You know what … this is my first time actually. I don't even know which one is the accelerator."

Spock fully expected Jim's guffaws right after. The bond was just as new to him as it was to Jim, and yet Jim had more knowledge of how to manipulate it.

"You don't normally shit talk me in your head, do you?" Jim questioned with a laugh Spock wanted to hear on replay. "Because you're exposed now, mister."

There was no response for that.

**.**

**.**

**.**

"Why are we here?"

There was a useless store that he and Jim never paid attention to. It served no purpose to them whatsoever. They stood in the accessories section that was mainly composed of glass artifacts that one would place in their homes to add more 'personality'.

Both of Jim's hands were holding two thick branches. Apparently, they were hidden in the truck. The mischievous grin on Jim's face should have worried him.

"Our place doesn't have a gym."

… and?

"I have to say, you did a phenomenal job of hiding your urge to just lash out at something, and seeing that I can't allow you to hurt your hands – here we are."

"I do not have the urge to 'lash out'."

"Don't lie to me, Spock." Jim interjected. "That's pretty much pointless now, isn't it? I mean, you wake up internally chanting to yourself that years have passed since Warehouse 15, when it happened just days ago."

"Grievance is meant to be in solitude. Acceptance is the only logical reaction."

"And I'm here to say that I don't think it's healthy. You spent all that time taking care of me, and now I want to take care of you." Jim announced as he placed a branch on Spock's chest. "I know me, Spock. I shut down, whereas you need physical release."

"It's …" Jim was correct.

"And naturally, before there's acceptance, there's _anger_." Jim added with emphasis, backing up as he twirled with his weapon. "You're angry. I'm angry. Isn't it fitting to go through this phase together?"

Spock could not deny it. This was the man that saw him kick a punching bag across the gym.

A shatter of a three-foot vase caused Spock to flinch from the ear-splitting noise.

"We were asleep, Spock. They were our people and we snored while they burnt, not a single scream to give us warning!" Another smash, and Jim let out a yell when the glass fell to the floor, a layer of fragmented reflections.

"Those lights went against all their set actions, doing a complete one eighty for no reason whatsoever." Jim dropped his shoulders, panting. "I don't know about you, but that's some _bullshit_!"

Spock looked away as if the motion would dim the sound of breaking glass. Jim's relief from the violent action was one that enticed him to experience it for himself.

He tossed the branch in the air and caught it, deciding that Jim's logic was sound. Perhaps this would be the thing that steered Spock away from a path of invading memories. He wanted to think of them by choice, not by daily interruptions rendering him frozen and wanting to heave the contents in his stomach.

"They silently observed us before they decided to descend – to annihilate. They hunted innumerable quantities for three nights, eliminating everyone in their path as if we were insignificant."

The night they first floated above the atmosphere, he looked up to the lights, understanding it for the unknown that it was. Not one of his peers admitted to that, falsely declaring their illogical theories to provide comfort – only fearing the panic when they should have feared the unknown. The hatred that flashed on Jim's face when he explained his previous position was one he accepted immediately. It was a face he wanted to show many before the first citywide screams.

That deserved the destruction of one object in itself. One swing, and it was destroyed. The broken pieces of glass would never rectify the many wrongs in his life.

"Each day since has been a game. We were the prey and they toyed with us, soon abandoning all its rules when we _finally_ adapted." The lights were weapons, but since nothing followed so far, he occasionally did the same mistake as Markus. He thought of them as sadistic sentient beings that had a choice. The lights were only representation of the choices an unknown element had made.

"I told them they were safe." With a tight grip on the ends of his thick branch, he slammed all his force on one of the glass tables that were on display.

Jim shouted behind him with approval. He then yelled, "We refuse to be rats in a maze!" before he irreversibly damaged another object.

"Terra does not belong to them." Spock ruined another with the thought that it belonged to all the sand on the ground, it belonged to his mother and it belonged to Jim – and against everything those humans out there thought, this planet belonged to him just as much.

"And they can all go fuck themselves!" Jim screamed before he broke his fifth object, hitting it two more times before it finally crumbled to the ground.

With a fiery energy, Spock took to ruining more and more. By his seventh attack, the branch cracked into two brittle pieces.

It was then that he realized that Jim ceased his attacks long before him, his broken branch already on the floor.

Spock stared at his significantly altered surroundings and was satisfied by its demolishment. Jim marched towards him and delivered a crushing hug, forcing him to drop the portion of the branch in his hand. It was the same grateful hug he received when they first reclaimed the night.

The intended result of this was relief. Jim embraced him, and he felt some of this invisible weight leave his body. It was not just because of the broken accessories and furniture, but also the act of voicing out his anger along with the Jim's thorough instruction that not all extreme emotions were illogical, but a stepping-stone for clarity.

With one breath, he confessed to his most salient thought. "I miss them."

**.**

**.**

**.**

Their night was interrupted with various hues of illuminating streaks peaking from under the bedroom door. His gut fell when he turned to the window on his right. The tape was glowing. Jim jerked up, instantly looking around to be met with the same sight. Spock saw Jim's expression contort into fear when he looked at the colors floating near the space under their door.

The hues were a reflection of the lights behind the wooden covered windows in the sitting room. Otherwise, they would have already been dead.

Spock jumped up from his seat and grabbed the fur coats, instantly throwing one to Jim across from him. There was no method to fighting – just the hope of avoiding detection.

Back on the bed, Jim gave him the look that translated to _'We need to look outside.'_

Spock would have responded if it weren't for the ground spontaneously shaking underneath them. He held onto Jim by reflex, feeling his own dread settling in.

A crash caught their attention. Something fell in their living room as a result of the strong motions.

"What the fuck is going on?"

It was a question to no one in particular. They both knew that there was only one answer.

Both of them jumped out off of the bed, making sure to hold each other tight. Spock placed his hand on the doorknob, opening the door by a few centimeters. A part of him wanted to not continue, returning to bed to ignore that this was taking place.

It was Jim's urgency that forced him to continue.

As they expected, the lights were being reflected on the ground, partially faded as they swayed in their dance. None of them entered their home… yet.

The lights were too far away.

They both took careful steps to the front door. When Spock put his hand on the doorknob, another wave of planet shaking vibrations caused them to briefly lose their balance.

Spock kept his hold on Jim and yanked the door open.

"Holy shit."

Spock covered his mouth with his wrist, astonished by the sight in front of him. Four metallic jet-black ship with three spiked ends covered the sky. With its height, Spock deduced that they were at least the size of a city.

They were obviously not Starfleet ships, nor one of those from a Federation planet. The option of even assuming that these were pirate ships was ruined when the lights swirled around them like their shields.

There was unfathomable terror in their connection as they witnessed the end.

It was Jim that first aired out their conclusion. "They're not here to help."

They were here to conquer.

The ground shook again, a result of the arrival of four more ships and another army of colorful wavy strings of lights.

Two more sets of four took its stolen place in the sky, covering the horizon. Spock was unable to see more if they came, only feel the arrival of each set.

Jim counted along with Spock … he counted with each set that showed up, placing the fear in all the survivors on the ground from every side of the planet.

"That's fifty …" In the span of three minutes, Spock counted two hundred and twenty ships, which must have covered the entirety of the western hemisphere.

Spock wanted to go back inside, gather their things and possibly return to their base. At least they could be underground there.

His internal brainstorming was met with a saddened look from Jim. There was not a slither of optimism found in Jim.

The first ship that arrived released three …

No, seven … twelve?

"Twenty." Jim corrected Spock's thoughts.

There were twenty ships the size of three merged shuttles that flew down, but they did not go to the ground. They floated right under its central ship.

In total, that would be four thousand and four hundred of them.

Spock wished to know what they were, where they came from, what they called themselves, and most of all … **why?**

His curiosity could never be satiated. He just had to accept that this was their way.

A white light exited its glowing sphere and made its way towards the ground. It dipped down and emerged back up with six black specks in the sky.

"No…" Jim uttered. "Those are people… Those are – Just, no." He was stuttering, shocked to the core of what was taking place in the sky.

A vibrant red light sliced through the black dots above the white one. It took too long for them to burn. He made sure to shield the faint screams he heard from Jim who was unable to hear them himself.

They remained there for three minutes before their dust rained down. Was this revenge? Was this a punishment for lasting this long into the cleansing before they arrived?

Unlike the ones before them, did these people deserved to feel pain? Did he deserve pain? Did Jim?

When the next set of six arose on their left, Jim covered his mouth with his palm and immediately turned away, making his way back into their home. Because these people were closer, Spock heard the screams well enough to discern their genders.

There were individuals being massacred above them – Terra's last moment.

Jim sat on the room floor with crossed legs, his fingers buried in his hair with gritted teeth.

Spock understood their reality. Once the hostile aliens completed their task, they would scout the grounds. It would make them nomads again, unable to sleep with both eyes closed – and if those shuttles contained at least two individuals, then that would be eight thousand eight-hundred pair of eyes to hide from.

Assuming that they had a pair of eyes…

He bent down on the floor and tilted his head to get a better view of Jim's face. Jim was attempting to shield his thoughts and failing. He placed his thumb and first finger under Jim's chin, nudging his head up to look in those fear filled eyes.

There was one message that he heard, and Spock let go as if Jim's skin was scorching hot. By Jim's alarmed expression, it was clear that he did not mean for Spock to hear it.

Jim did not want to be in pain, nor did he want to run.

Spock knew Jim could tolerate pain. He had seen it with his own eyes in excruciating detail. However, this was different because he did not see a worthy reason to endure it again.

Spock did not ' _want'_ to run either; however it was automatic for him to decide as such, despite the improbability of succeeding. He only truly desired to protect Jim.

Another shake of the place, and the shelf fell to the side, their books falling wide open.

Fifty – one.

Two hundred and twenty-four ships in total.

Eighty smaller ships inside those four ships.

One hundred and sixty more hostiles.

Spock could vividly see Jim's thoughts of purple petals swaying in the air, following the direction of the wind. There was a younger Jim running in fear from masked men with guns, the life becoming nothing but the chase.

Spock was attacked by another set of screams, more loudly this time. He shut his eyes, covering his ears. There was nothing to shield from Jim, for he heard them this time with his own ears.

Jim expressed his theory that they were alone. Well, they definitely were now, everyone around them being victim to torture before the freedom of death. Soon, they would be included in a floating string of agony. Both of them were unaware if their fur armor would protect them.

"Very well." Was all Spock said before he stood up.

Jim turned around, stricken with disbelief. Spock could feel those ocean irises boring into his back as he marched to one of the kitchen cabinets.

"Spock?!" Jim called to him in pure urgency. "No. I didn't -  Spock!"

He did not respond, actively searching for the proper medications that would be more efficient to reach his goal without unbearable symptoms that they could do without. Of course there was a quicker method for this, however he refused to use his own hands. The thought was enough to induce nausea.

He could never…

Finally satisfied with his selection, he grabbed them and brought along two bottles of water.

"Fucking shit." Jim uttered when Spock placed them on the ground. "This is not happening."

Spock was certain that he heard Jim think of –

"No." Jim interrupted. "I meant it … it's just …"

"You thought that I would deny you a peaceful conclusion?"

"Is that how you think of it?" Jim said with widened eyes, "… I thought you would think of it as cowardice."

"You and I are many things." Spock said as he sat across from Jim, cupping one cheek. "But we are not cowards."

They were far from cowards.

They were survivors who completed their reign.

This wasn't the absence of logic, but a logic that was stretched and formed into the shape that fit within his love for Jim. It was logic reexamined.

A hitched breath came from Jim when another shake cut through their thoughts.

Fifty – two.

Two hundred and twenty-eight ships in total.

Eighty smaller ships inside those four ships.

One hundred and sixty more hostiles.

All nine thousand one hundred and twenty of them.

"I would ask you to stop that, but I'm doing exactly the same."

"We should cease our calculations." He knew there would be more across the globe. It was pointless.

The doubt on Jim's face started to melt as Spock made Jim aware that he did not decide to do this because of the possible after effects of the ripped bond. He was doing this because he could not see himself in the world without Jim. He did not require a torn bond to foresee that.

Jim, the last of Warehouse 15.

Jim, his partner.

Jim, his friend.

Jim, his love.

Jim, his bond mate.

The death of the one his essence had linked to would render him unable to fight. Unable to bother in the face of such horror. With a fleet this large, the possibility of a rescue was eliminated completely.

They did not lose hope. They were merely being practical.

"And if I decide to run, with the inevitable end of dying in capture?" Jim asked with tight lips, his body shivering, "What then?"

"I would run with you." He answered without thought. He would protect and fight until he no longer could.

Jim blinked at Spock, internally yelling that Spock's words would forever surprise him. "I'm sure this isn't the Vulcan way."

"It is in the midst of infirmity." Spock answered. "It could come to that after the consistent running. Why wait?"

"Now you're just searching for a very tight loophole." Jim snorted.

He was. "… Jim, I am certain that suicide does not coincide with your beliefs either."

New strings of oranges and teals were cast over Jim's face. "Everyone has their own story. They all end, and I never judge how it does. He would understand. He knows I tried. God, I really tried." Jim bit his bottom lips, sucking them under his teeth. "This feels like a shitty test, and this is the finale."

The mention of a test reminded Spock of Zack's story. He did one more last line of humor to ease Jim's rapid emotions of trepidation, which he was physically concealing exceptionally well. "We are not shy, nor are we females."

The weak smile on Jim's face made Spock believe that perhaps everything would be okay.

"Oh trust me, if this was actually that kind of test – I would bring ruin."

Spock nodded with approval. "As you should."

The next shake was accompanied by more gut-wrenching screams. Jim thought of the base and how he was grateful that they did not have to witness this terrorizing event before their end.

Spock shared his belief. He was unaware of how he would have acted in that predicament.

"We had a pretty good run, didn't we?"

"All because we had each other." Spock said as he brought Jim's hand between them, above their calves.

It was time.

He placed a mixture of sedatives in their palms, making sure that it was a lethal dose for both of them to avoid prolonged paradoxical reactions.

Drowsiness, muscle weakness, light-headedness was something they could tolerate, however both of them were not in favor of pain and seizures.

"Not interested in going through one of those again." Jim ruefully jested before he swallowed his portion with a few gulps of water.

Spock did the same and placed his bottle on the ground. When the next planet wide quake took over, none of them reacted.

Instead, Jim turned around to place the back of his head on Spock's lap. It was natural to fumble with the dark blond strands under his fingers after that.

In a desperate search for humanity, he found that and much more. He found love. He found James Tiberius Kirk.

"Hey, Spock?"

"Yes, ashayam?"

Jim blinked up with a smile. "It's my turn."

Expect Jim to find some form of happiness in the face of such a moment. "Then let's begin."

"This is James' last story." Jim began. "After all his challenges, after all the bullshit, he somehow ended up happy. And here's the weird part too." He said with a hint of mystery. "He got married."

"I am sure James is delighted by this."

"Ecstatic." Jim replied, moving his hand up to catch Spock's exploring fingers. "He got married to the best person on this planet – and the same would be true even in its peak condition, billions of healthy people and all."

"Does that include Starfleet officers currently in the vastness of space and other planets?"

"Of course." Jim added. "Spock does realize that James loves him, right?"

He flowed his raw adoration through their touch and pressed his lips on Jim's forehead. "If Spock was oblivious to it, then he would not deserve it." He answered. "… But he knows it for the fascinating revelation that it is, and he deserves it just as James deserves his love in return."

Spock was beginning to feel drowsy. Jim's kiss on the center of his palm was a small shock that renewed him once more. It was the only shock he allowed himself to feel, ignoring the ones coming from the ground.

"And so - Spock's story ends." It was a bittersweet conclusion, but it was theirs and no one could take that away from them.

"Along with … James'."

Jim's breathing was slowing down, and Spock could feel the pressure building up behind his eyes. He already allowed himself one moment of releasing the tears from his human eyes. He would not indulge in another.

The rumble was deafening this time, and they both shut their eyes as they tried to ignore it all. Soon it would all disappear.

Spock squeezed Jim's palm, scared that if he let go, Jim would vanish.

Jim abandoned his opportunity for a farewell and replaced it with a promise. "Until … next time."

"Until next time." Spock whispered, grateful that he was still conscious to voice his last thought.

**.**

**.**

**.**

Leonard swore to himself that THE SIMULATION would never make him give in to his emotions. He was so dedicated to this decision that he even asked Spock how he did it right before they reported the FAILs to Jim.

Spock would respond - 'Simply remember that they are not real'

After his own SIM, he went home and curled up on his bed, crying until the sun returned. He didn't even have the courage to call Jim, deciding that he could not admit to his sins. If he voiced them out loud, they would be real.

He acknowledged that his tears were a healthy response, because if he kept it in, he would not have functioned properly. And he knew he had to function to do his damn job. So he cried and cried on his pillow sheets.

_"We had a pretty good run, didn't we?"_

It was natural to become emotionally invested if the SIM world was a long one. At least that's what he told himself when he ended up sniffling.

M'Benga took one look at him, and left the room with the rest of the shaken team to give Leonard some space.

Maybe it was the lack of food and the shit load of caffeine. Maybe it was his lack of sleep.

The Admirals threatened his position, and he wanted to take them up on it. He couldn't dedicate himself to another program after this. He knew the limits of his mind.

Earth was stripped clean by the aliens, and he just saw his friends fall into the five percent.

_"Until next time."_

He aggressively wiped a fallen tear and let out an aggravated yell. The three screens turned black and the beeping had begun, sparking his abused nerves.

He sucked in a deep gust of air and marched out of the doors, calling the others inside. It would take a few more minutes for Jim and Spock's bodies to shut down, thus dying in the SIM. They would come home.

It was M'Benga and Dr. Kim that were closest to him as they listened to every beep. It was Dr. Lee who stood next to Jim with anticipation. Everyone was on edge, clenching their PADDs with bugged eyes.

It was seven minutes, the longest deliberation so far.

Leonard fell into his chair, his muscles turning into jelly when he saw the enlarged green words flash on all the screens.

Unexpectedly, it was M'Benga who let out the first shout, a punch in the air. "Yes, yes, yes, yes!"

Pandemonium broke, some of them just dropping to their seats or using the wall for support after this physically and emotionally exhausting trial.

This was finally over.

**.**

**.**

**.**

ROUND FIVE: Winning option in program 9273SK91720 (Yes/No): No.

 

**_Captain Kirk:_ **

Self Preservation: 92/100

Mental/Emotional State: 80/100

Leadership: 100/100

Tactical Thought Process: 95/100

Winning Option Awareness? (Yes/No): Yes.

Judgment: 92/100

Interaction with SIM Add-Ons (Camp Salvatus): 99/100

Interaction with SIM Add-Ons (Warehouse 15): 90/100

Memory Manipulation: Successful.

 

**_Commander Spock:_ **

Self Preservation: 96/100

Mental/Emotional State: 88/100

Leadership: 100/100

Tactical Thought Process: 95/100

Winning Option Awareness? (Yes/No): Yes.

Judgment: 98/100

Interaction with SIM Add-Ons (Camp Salvatus): 89/100

Interaction with SIM Add-Ons (Warehouse 15): 100/100

Memory Manipulation: Successful.

... COMPLETE.

FINAL GRADE: **_PASS_**

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay. That’s the end of the SIMs. Next up is the POST-SIM drama, and it’ll be one unstable ride.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own Zack’s story. It was inspired by the movie ‘The Cabin In The Woods’.
> 
> Also, I don't own any of Shakespeare’s work, his soul or bones. Katherine read a quote from his play ‘All's Well That Ends Well.’  
> I don’t own ‘Don Quixote’ either!  
> I didn’t write any versions of the Bible as well . ("Beware of false prophets. They come to you in sheep’s clothing, but inwardly they are ravenous wolves.” [Matthew 7:15])
> 
> Honestly, if I owned any of these - I would be a vampire.
> 
> Or maybe I am a vampire …
> 
> ~XIIVA


	35. POST SIM – PART EIGHT

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m kicking off this POST – SIM drama by thanking you all for the love and support of this unstable tale. *kisses and hugs*
> 
> Song: Hurts Like Hell by Fleurie
> 
> Warning: An annoyed Bones. Also, Jim is a walking contradiction. Just give him some time. 
> 
> ~X

 

** POST SIM – PART EIGHT **

 

 

>  
> 
> _Pop out your deluxe home made cakes! Forget calories for once, and ignore that self-obsessed vanity society shoved down your throats. Add some whipped cream on that sweetness._
> 
> _Invite friends over – and do yourselves a favor, and confess your dying love to that one person you’ve been pining during the last four years in that Academy you all love so dearly._
> 
> _Replace those cheap beers with drinks that’ll make you fall on the floor in one beautiful burning sip. Treat yourself. Take off your clothes. Shake a little. Have fun!_
> 
> _You want to know why, fellow soon to be graduates? It’s because what you get as a reward for all your hard work is a load of baloney!_
> 
> _So, congratulations! In two weeks time, all you beautiful scholars will graduate!_
> 
> _Congratulations! You’re not only going to be put at risk in the empty darkness we call space, but you can now place your brain in a blender before you even step foot on a ship. That’s right – you heard me – I’m talking about the SIMs._
> 
> _Admiral Amy Jackson must be turning in her grave, and Mr. Dhar might haunt us if he dies before this mess is rectified- again!_
> 
> _All you officers may be scared and secretive – but we know enough from history. Oh sure, it’s all fixed now – it’s safe and better – quicker._
> 
> _You call it_ **_blue cheese._ ** _I call it_ **_fungi._ **
> 
>  
> 
> _But who wants to listen to me? I’m just a simple civilian who gathered my civilian Master’s at the civilian University of California, and became the civilian spokesperson of ‘Your Life Tonight’ with twenty-five million viewers, and that’s on a boring evening. Now, I can’t believe that this civilian is actually taking the time to talk about this truly horrific program._
> 
> _We shouldn’t have cared about Starfleet, people! None of my viewers cared! What Starfleet decides to do, what we trust them to do – should have never been our business. Starfleet keeps the planet afloat while we worry about the local laws in our cities. We care more about our Mayors, Governors and Presidents, because we’re selfish. We’re too into our own lives to look around us on a bigger scale._
> 
> _Everyone has their own roles in society._
> 
> _How do these Captains, Commanders and Admirals help us civilians in our_ **_daily_ ** _lives?  Nada!_
> 
> _So yes, we’re selfish, but that’s something that’s changing while you’re looking at my powder pressed face right now._
> 
> _So tonight, my distinguished civilians –_
> 
> _You’re going to go home after a hard working day and have dinner with your family. One person on that table is going to tell you that they want to go to the Academy – or worse – they already told you the brilliant news!_
> 
> _They want to go into space!_
> 
> _This is the part where you would normally hug each other with cheers and anticipation for their bright future, but instead, you’re going to fill your face with sweetened apple pie._
> 
> _You want to know why you’re going to fill your face with sweetened apple pie?_
> 
> _It’s because you don’t know what these people are doing anymore! We have a ship falling on our city and a viral video of a Vulcan sprinting like it’s the Olympics, running after some matrix looking terrorist._
> 
> _Honestly – Starfleet used to be synonymous with_ **_explorers_. **_Now we think_ **_military_ ,** _and no matter how patriotic this nation is – a parent never wants to hear about their child wanting to be sucked into something where they could possibly come out of the other side stumbling!_
> 
> _No one is safe, because the Academy is a siren call. I hear it calling, and it's a loud one. I'm surprised I wasn't sucked into it myself._
> 
>  
> 
> _Sorry? You think your family is safe?_
> 
>  
> 
> _Bad news people._
> 
>  
> 
> _Your child tells you that they’re going to be normal? Well, you’re going to have to saddle up for what’s to come. Sooner or later, expect them to tell you that they’re taking that civilian degree and going to Starfleet with it. Maybe not now, but it could be in three years or ten. It could be after a divorce with two babies already going through their first crush._
> 
> _Oh, your child’s going to be a doctor? Oh, they like to build things? Sure they’ll save a couple people here and there and build beautiful infrastructure, but the truth is that in the not so distant future – they’re going to build ships and perform emergency surgery on a red shirt after an away mission._
> 
> _We non-Starfleet civilians understand risk – we know risk - we know that being an officer isn’t as soft as the fluffy doll we hug at night – but this right here, this is a risk that doesn’t need to exist. It should have never existed._
> 
> _We may not know everything, but best believe that we are asking questions now. This isn't an American issue. This is a global issue. So yes, I will be talking about this because I care, my viewers care and the whole world along with it. If you’re out there scared – then I’ll make it my priority that you know we’re here._
> 
> _And to all those gutless saps, those couch potatoes, irrationally mourning people out there that think this is right, and that this is what those officers deserve because of all the scandal that has ensued – then you need to go wipe all the mirrors you own, since I don’t think you’ve seen that cruel reflection of yours lately. The desire for revenge is somewhat understandable, but what you guys are saying is ridiculous. So call me a pessimist if you wish. I'm just going to be that pessimist that helps in exposing the truth._
> 
>  
> 
> _The truth is news, and the news is my_ **_job_ ** _._
> 
> _So I suggest we sit down, and browse videos of the brave woman who gave one emotional speech to end this, because it’s starting all over again and we’re ready._
> 
> _My platform is your platform. Come on up and chitchat with this lovely civilian. My invitation extends to all of you who pin emblems on those fashion faux pas uniforms._
> 
> _Are you ready?_

**.**

**.**

**.**

 

Spock rose from his seat and made his way towards the exit. He was given two options, and as the Admirals attempted to steer him towards a decision they thought more preferable, he tuned them out completely.

 

Sign – they said.

 

Transfer then – they suggested when they finally came to terms that he was indeed serious.

 

We will label it as a compatibility transfer – they offered so that he would not leave, his record untarnished.

 

You could be Captain, Mr. Spock – they opined, thinking that he would bend to their whim.

 

The compatibility transfer was a promising suggestion. Not one person would question it, because although many refrained to express this opinion out loud, many believed that out of all the command teams - him and Jim would be victim to a compatibility transfer.

 

Apparently, they were _too_ compatible.

 

The irony.

 

He could not accept a grade of FAIL, but he could resign. He already said so.

 

With fatigue invading his system, he informed them that the meeting proved redundant and that his presence extraneous. It was baffling that they included him in such a discussion when previous decisions were made without his permission or awareness. They were also made without basic consideration or care.

 

“Mr. Spock, you can’t just leave.”

 

“I can, and I will.”

 

“But – “

 

“Your opinions are irrelevant.” He looked towards the shocked crowded table. “I have completed my duties indefinitely.”

 

"I suggest you watch yourself, Mr. Spock."

 

"And why should I refrain from expressing my opinion?" Spock raised a brow at their utter obliviousness. “Was that not the purpose of my attendance?”

 

“You’re expressing _anger - ”_

“As I should.” Spock interjected. “You have all carelessly threw me into a world forged from violence.”

 

“I’ll remind you that you and your Captain created that world.” Komack informed with a sneer.

 

Their words immediately translated to _‘It’s your fault you were strapped to a tree.’_

 

Komack continued, "If there's anyone to blame, then it's Kirk because the operatives stated that sixty-nine percent of the SIM world was derived from his conscious - "

 

“Do not displace the blame to compensate for your irresponsibility. You were the ones who allowed it.” Spock caught himself and breathed in. “In addition, my telepathy was stripped, an ability that is not a mere accessory but a vital part to my physiology. Its absence was equivalent to an amputation. I do not see how such an immoral action could benefit the data you are all endeavoring to desperately gather.”

 

It was of no matter if Jim was the one whom composed one hundred percent of it. None of this should have taken place. If anything, Spock was grateful that he was there for Jim in a time where Jim would have been alone.

 

Again.

 

These thoughts made Spock fearful of those that would to endure this in the near future. He was not this concerned before.

Those that received a FAIL deserved it. Granted, the test was complicated - Some more than others. McCoy expressed his thoughts of increasing worry considering the other SIMs he watched over.

One evening, both of them almost informed Jim of one SIM that received a PASS, stating that it was edging on unnecessarily harsh and cruel. They decided against it because of Jim's perpetual coughing, thus reminding them that Jim could not intervene.

 

Jim did not need to save them. He could not, even if he desired to. His Captain was still suffering from his heroic actions.

 

In response, Scott and Sulu came to the same decision.

 

Did he regret this? Negative.

 

Because of their decision, Jim was healing. Jim was not wasting his time by watching the SIMs of every crewmember. Instead, he read what was necessary - who were discharged - who would remain and who would leave because of a compatibility transfer.

 

Jim had to PASS. That was not an option.

 

"Mr. Spock?"

 

They required his attention and Spock was not sure that he had any to give. Remaining here with the people who have done this to him made him nauseous. Perhaps he should sign just so that he could be light-years away from them.

 

Being on the same planet was not far enough.

 

“And what do you suggest then? Do we make sure the Vulcans and other species keep their abilities, able to find out about the SIM within a SIM day?” Nensi intervened. “Or do we just make this a human test, excluding over thirty percent of our officers?”

 

That was not his point. They knew it, and they were feigning denial. “Negative.”

 

“Then what’s your point? We should remove the program altogether? Especially after all the work we had to do to get it back?”

 

Spock knew that the _work_ they spoke of was not enough to be called _work_. The program received a simple sweep up when it should have been reformatted from the first add-on. These programs were just an easier method of elimination. Reverting back to normal psychological evaluations could not compare to the SIMs, however it was a sacrifice that had to be made. 

 

“That is the only valid option.” He replied.

 

“And why would we do that?” Admiral Cartwright questioned. “Do you know how many FAILs we have gathered? How many potential threats we have removed because of this? Some officers barely made it to the second round because of their incompetence and actions. We are providing a safe future at the fastest rate possible!”

 

Prior to what was the supposed to be the permanent ban of the SIMULATION program, there was one person, the first person who spoke about her personal tribulations, even after three decades post SIM. He thought it appropriate that they remember her words today, because by resurrecting the program – they have tossed her words into the depths of history.

 

She did not matter to them.

 

No one did.

 

“Thirty one years ago today, I took my SIM. I have married twice and had two children since.”

 

The bodies instantly stilled in the room. “Mr. Spock – “

 

“I have fought my demons. I have come to terms with what has happened in my childhood. With years of great effort to clear this cloud in this head of mine, I was acquainted with my demons once again. I can’t sleep. The nights that I do sleep are because of the fresh hypo-shots stabbed into my neck. I progressed in my career because of my skills and because of my determination. I also progressed just to spite everything that has been thrown at me.”

 

Admiral Archer was the only one whom remained seated as the rest stood erect with shock, incessantly informing him that he did not have to say another word. Spock knew that he had to, because their actions were a result of their inability to listen. He looked at them, and he saw Camp Salvatus – a group of people that justified their heinous actions. Him and other officers were suffering from the actions of one.

 

It was a poisoning cycle.

 

“My mother died from fire. The ones that I held dear in the SIM, the ones that we like to call ‘add-ons’ burned in fire.” Spock continued, looking into every one of their eyes. “The fire that I once avoided came back for me. I died in it as if the Universe was correcting its wrong. Today, I am Admiral Amy Jackson, and I still see fire.”

 

Her story was everyone’s story when she revealed it at the time. It was unfortunate to say that many would take ownership of that story again. It most likely already was as he stood here in this moment. He knew because it became his story. Spock exited the room, fully acknowledging that he would see white sand forever.

**.**

**.**

**.**

 

The clean walls, the chilled air, and the background chatter … everything felt synthetic, fabricated and just overall fake. Jim wanted to shed off his clothes because he didn’t remember picking them out the day he discovered a mannequin and ran home to avoid the lights’ inevitable arrival.

 

These clothes were given to him by McCoy – a man he didn’t know _existed_ for the last year and seven months. Just walking by an Andorian that was calm in a circle of humans gave him the jeepers. He had to prevent himself from separating them. He reminded himself that no one needed saving.

 

Instead, he strolled on with his one tightened fist. They were just discussing important matters … or anything that had nothing to do with wanting to judge.

 

Scorching fires, illuminating shades, distant sparks and crackles, and white sand…

 

His surroundings lacked all of it, and each void corner seethed of cruel reminders. It was ironic because he should have been happy.

 

Thrilled.

 

He wasn’t laying on the rubble of a dying planet. He was back in a world filled with billions of humans and aliens living in harmony. The built up weight of his conscience was eliminated with his return, but it was instantly replaced with his yearning to solve this mess he was in.

 

He had to see Spock.

 

Just Spock.

 

They both received a PASS. Soon, they could start their anticipated voyage far, far away from here. He wanted to venture so far; they would discover new life every few hours because they were in uncharted space.

 

It was something he dreamed about. Spock so much as admitted to feeling the same, always attempting to conceal the amount of excitement he felt. Jim saw it all with clarity anyways.

 

It wasn’t just a duty to Spock.

 

Jim wasn’t just a duty for Spock either.

 

They were friends that looked forward to the journey. Honestly, there wasn’t another option when he had the pen in his hand. That was why he made his decision so quickly.

 

Maybe it was an expression of his selfishness for desiring to keep Spock close. Perhaps it was an example of his selflessness – perfectly ready to give Spock what he deserved, no matter the relationship they would have.

 

Realistically, he knew he wouldn’t forget the thoughts he confessed, shared and explained – he would never forget the pure tenderness that were Spock’s touches and the raw meaning in those endearments. God, he would never forget Spock’s mind.

 

Putting the whole unbelievable SIM aside, just considering their last night together was evidence enough that _maybe_ Spock felt something back.

 

Just maybe …

 

However, the last time he was optimistic about the impossible, he was proven wrong when hundreds of ships appeared in the sky.

 

Spock could despise Jim for bringing these emotions out of him, out of them, in front of everyone. Spock could be ashamed.

 

Those fears Spock spoke about now had a new meaning behind them. He could stand here and question them for eternity, but the fact remained. Spock would return to the Enterprise.

 

Jim just needed to locate him as soon as possible, so they could determine their next move by giving the other some simple, and yet life-changing answers. Whatever Spock decided to give him, he would take it.

 

One would think _‘But the contract?’_

 

Jim shook his head as he trod down the hallways, ignoring all the lab coats and uniforms. He had to tell Spock about what he did, and he hoped no one told him about it already. That would cause too much damage between them.

 

Or maybe Spock didn’t care, knowing that Jim would make the right decision. Jim’s mind was stuck in a blender with a finger floating above the power button.

 

Should things work in his favor, he was prepared to forget the contract altogether. They would be light-years away in undiscovered space in different quadrants. They had to be careful, but it was doable. What happened between them was more valuable than a document.

 

A quick turn to a corner led to the exit, and he saw him right near the door, standing as if he was waiting for him.

 

“That was a rather dramatic exit.”

 

Jim narrowed his eyes and continued to walk right past Admiral Archer. Too bad the old man marched right next to him, not faltering back for a moment.

 

“I respect you.” He muttered. “I respect all of you, even that bitter Komack. Now, I don’t think I can say that anymore. Not after everything’s that happened. You all continuously let us down and get away with it. I doubt anyone’s told you. I doubt anyone will, so I’ll be the first and probably the last. I don’t trust, let alone respect any of you anymore.”

 

Archer walked with his hands clasped behind his back. Jim didn’t allow for himself to care that Archer looked extremely tired.

 

“Sir.” Jim added with a cynical tone.

 

“I deserve that.” The older man simply replied.

 

Jim halted in his step, skeptical and waiting for more. “You do.”

 

“Captain Kirk, I am here to aid in anyway I can.” Archer stated. “With that, I’m going to tell you that your First Officer is long gone.”

 

The creaking gears in his head went to an emergency stop.

 

“Excuse me?” He turned to his right and faced Archer, glaring so hard Anastasia would have been proud.

 

“Commander Spock was presented with the same offer … “

 

“He was _what_?!” Jim caught himself the second the people surrounding them switched their gaze in his direction. “As Captain, that was my decision to make. Not his. Not you. Not anyone.”

 

“The assumption would be that you two would sign without hesitation. He didn’t listen to a word.” Archer sighed, his old age coming through as stronger than before. “Surprisingly, he essentially told us to fuck off.”

 

Jim pushed away the swell of gratifying feelings of approval that spontaneously came up, and kept his face neutral. “Protocol mandates that my decision overrides his. My signature was a PASS for both of us.”

 

“True.” Archer nodded. “A permanent grade of FAIL would have tarnished his record and a transfer was not an option he entertained. He also is aware that you could simply put a request to have him returned to your crew – of course the terms you agreed upon would be a part of that. Apparently, Mr. Spock told us that he would resign instead.”

 

This was … absurd. He started to regret not seeing McCoy. He should have gone for his POST- SIM examination because he was about to fall. At the very least, he would scream.

 

Could he just scream? Was he allowed that luxury?

 

That was the least Jim deserved. He just died after all.

 

“He didn’t …”

 

“You should receive the forms soon, so that you may sign them.”

 

Not happening. “I won’t.”

 

“Then you have the option to convince him to abide by the terms, Captain. I’m letting you know that he’s currently registered as a FAIL with a pending transfer, which he doesn’t know yet. Should your First Officer retract his decision, then everything will return to normal with a simple signature.”

 

A scoff escaped him “Normal.”

 

Nothing would ever be normal again.

 

“If it’s any credit, I apologize. As SIM protocol, my veto was – “

 

Jim refused to go down this path. “If you’re looking for forgiveness or something, I can’t do it right now Admiral.” He stepped back to continue his walk to the exit. “I need to find him.”

 

“Captain.” Archer called back to him.

 

Jim turned around and saw that Archer had his hand out, palm down.

 

“Shake it.” Archer simply ordered, leaving no room for argument.

 

This whole thing felt like a joke. He looked around to see if anyone would jump out and claim that it was. He sighed and shook the man’s hand.

 

It was a quick exchange. He felt something abnormal prickling his palm as he slipped it away. It was a ripped piece of paper with a couple digits on written on it … a number.

 

He stared at it, his confusion evident. “What is this? “

 

Archer was already a few steps away from him. “Wish you luck in your endeavors, Captain.”

 

Jim quizzically stared at the retreating back. He was brought out of his stupor when he heard a familiar call to his name.

 

“Jim!”

 

Fuck. Not now. He would either hug his friend or shove him to the ground. He wasn’t so sure at the moment.

 

He saw McCoy from the corner of his eyes, and didn’t stop when his friend approached him. “Another time, Bones.”

 

“I haven’t heard you speak in twenty-eight days, and you’re saying ‘ _Another time, Bones’?”_ McCoy stopped him by grabbing his forearm. “You were supposed to come back for your POST – SIM exam.”

 

Jim stopped in his step. This was his friend, and yet he felt a hint of anger directed at this person he wanted to say ‘ _I miss you’_ _to_ _._

 

“Did you know that the SIMs renders every single officer unable to utilize their telepathic abilities?”

 

McCoy swallowed and guilt filled the atmosphere. “I … I only saw one.”

 

That was all Jim needed to here. He turned away, and left.

 

McCoy didn’t budge, running right after him “But I swear we couldn’t tell until the very end! She kept quiet the whole time.” McCoy answered, confusing Jim even more. “She’s not a part of our crew. I couldn’t tell you. You have to understand that.”

 

“Was she - ?”

 

“She’s Vulcan.” McCoy answered the obvious question. “Listen, we didn’t even know what was going on with Spock until he told you. We thought he had his defenses like he told those add-ons Ana and Markus.”

 

Just _add-ons_ …?

 

“Don’t speak of them.” Jim covered one ear. “Please.”

 

McCoy quickly apologized. “We suspected but – “ He cut himself off when Jim continued on his mission to the door. “Jim? Jim, you have to believe me!”

 

“I’m leaving.” He declared without turning around this time.

 

“Funny.” McCoy huffed a low cynical laugh. “Spock just up and left too. What the hell, Jim?”

 

He was asking himself the same exact thing. “I’m going to Spock.” If he was correct, Spock was on his way home if he wasn’t already there yet.

 

“You _can’t_ drive.”

 

Jim’s walk transformed into an erect march in an attempt to spite McCoy’s words. “I will.”

 

McCoy wiped his face with a groan, marching next to Jim. “Shit.”

 

“Why are you still following me?”

 

“Because someone has to take you.” McCoy sighed. “I’ll play taxi if it means I’ll get to watch over you. Lord knows I deserve a break myself.”

 

There was no arguing with McCoy’s words. Any attempt would have been futile.

 

They finally walked through the exit and made their way to the lot. McCoy walked to his side of the hovercraft and settled in when the door automatically opened.

Jim reflected the actions and waited for the doors to close with crossed arms. His right leg was beginning to shake. He had no idea what he was getting himself into. There were many goals he had in mind – the majority of them consisting of making absolutely sure that Spock loved him back. Those intentions didn’t exclude his main, ultimate goal though – and that was to get Spock back on his ship – no matter how it had to be done.

 

He would deal with the aftermath later.

 

He felt the craft power on, vibrating underneath him. He breathed in, forcing himself to relax his muscles. Nothing could be done if he was a nervous wreck.

 

“I read the reports of the SIM movement in the past. I read the changes that were made to it. It’s all one big fucking lie.” Jim confessed. “I mean there weren’t any exact lies, but the amount of information that was omitted, Bones … that has to be illegal or something.”

 

“Jim – “

 

“You knew …” He whispered his accusing thought.

 

“I knew enough to not bother you with this.” There was no denial in that tone, just a man who believed he made the best decision.

 

“Spock knew. My First Officer lied to me, Bones.” What kind of Captain was he? None of them confided in him. “God, Scott and Sulu even kept this from me. Every single one of you.”

 

“First of all, Spock wasn’t aware of this, at least in this kind of level. He’s just as messed up as you, and that’s not a wild guess.” McCoy tsked. “Don’t blame the others for this. They came to that decision on their own.”

 

“Probably after confirming with you and Spock.” All of this was taking place behind his back. “I’m not weak.”

 

“You’re not weak.” McCoy reaffirmed as he did a turn with a grim face.

 

“So why the secrecy?” Jim turned to his friend with a contorted expression, needing answers. “And don’t make this about my health –“

 

“This is about your health, and I’m not going to sprinkle sugar on that and deny it! You didn’t just need rest; you needed to heal physically and mentally. With your clearance, it made you eligible for the SIM testing, and there was no way you were going to PASS after seeing over a dozen SIMs before yours. There’s nothing you could have done, and anything we told you would have been forgotten the second you went to sleep.”

 

“Wow …” Jim was too angry to care for McCoy’s logic. “My life can’t calm down for a few couple of months. I have to deal with this, and I just found out that Spock wants to leave the ship.”

 

There was an unsettling silent moment between them as McCoy took in that statement and tried to make sense of it in his head.

 

“Always expect the dramatics from Spock.” McCoy pondered aloud. “The first thing he said is that you both got a FAIL, which is crazy. He left before I could even tell him the news. That’s normally the first thing people want out of our mouths, Jim.”

 

Jim had identical thoughts when he first opened his eyes. “Right …”

 

“You did pass though …” McCoy started to stutter, genuinely confused by Jim’s sudden frown. “Did something … they wouldn’t … shit, Jim.”

 

Jim took his friend out of his jumbled thoughts. “It’s complicated.”

 

“Then _uncomplicated_ it.”

 

“We were given some fucked up version of a contract.” Just thinking about it made him want to puke. “We already got a PASS but to keep it, we were to sign it.”

 

McCoy shot his eyebrows up, his mouth slightly parted. “Let me guess … this had to do with the - “ He gulped. “Well the … “

 

“Oh.” Well … that was a whole other conversation he was not looking forward to being involved in. “I would apologize that you had to see or hear any of that, but you didn’t exist Bones. None of you guys did.”

 

“I had to recuperate, although I’m scarred forever.” McCoy added without a hint of actual disgust. “I didn’t notice the developments at first. I should have caught the hint two months ago, but expect me to be oblivious on such matters.”

 

“That sounds rather specific.” Jim retorted. “Really specific actually.”

 

“It was around the time Spock visited you by himself for the first time.”

 

Jim didn’t know of his feelings for Spock then and his heart still skipped a beat that day. He didn’t know what to talk about most of the time, considering that McCoy was the barometer between their casual conversations. It got better since then obviously, but that day made him so tired in the end. He had been careful of every word he said. Then he got even more tired of overthinking of why he was overthinking.

 

His home wasn’t the same as being in his little quarter after a shift. This was an intimate setting, proving more that they desired for the other’s company when they didn’t have to be.

 

“Spock called me every five minutes asking what your favorite foods were, and if you were going to be comfortable with me absent. Stupid question really. Didn’t you guys sometimes hang out after shift?”

 

“Not the same thing.” Jim replied immediately.

 

“Well to be frank, I think he panicked that I wasn’t coming.” McCoy added with a low laugh. “ _Surely you can reschedule your appointment, Doctor. Jim was expecting both of us, Doctor. Could you reconsider?”_

 

“He seemed … calm.” Spock was a great house guest. It was Jim that was overreacting that day.

 

Bones continued, “Here’s the thing. I’m the one who has to work with you two. If I got over it, then those high on their ass officials shouldn’t care. And they especially shouldn’t care enough to make you guys sign something like that.”

 

“Spock didn’t sign.”

 

McCoy hit the break a little too hard before moving forward again. “He wouldn’t sign.” The realization dawned on him too. “Shit on a fucking stick, of course he wouldn’t sign.”

 

Jim didn’t know why McCoy came to that conclusion, but there were many possible reasons as to why Spock wanted to abandon ship.

 

“That sounds like great news for this deranged thing that is my love life, but it’s not. I have his stupid resignation probably somewhere inside my terminal, and I have to make Spock decide against it.”

 

“Resignation?” McCoy hissed out the word. “They’re not giving him a transfer? After all of that, they don’t give him the decency of keeping his freakin’ career?! They should give him his own ship if anything!”

 

There was no question that Spock would make an exceptional Captain.

 

“He wont accept the FAIL obviously, and he denied a transfer of any kind.” What the hell was that half-Vulcan thinking?

 

“… I can somewhat see that now.” McCoy turned left faster than he should have. “When Spock was brought out of stasis, he … he looked at you like he was searching for something.”

 

Jim knew exactly what Spock was searching for.

 

“Jim … your bond.” McCoy concluded with a curse under his breath.

 

“There’s nothing. I feel nothing. Do you think I would be asking you and myself all these questions if I felt an inkling of Spock?” The reality was so cruel. “You don’t think I’ve called to him with that contract in my face? There’s just white noise, Bones.”

 

And the clashing static engulfed the bridge with one dull grey color. Everything wasn’t just dead now. It was abandoned, leaving that one tainted string of a link that showed proof that something was once there. That it used to beat with life. It was proof that something would never be there again.

 

Now was that a relief for Spock, or a disappointing fact?

 

“Believe me when I say that he wouldn’t want to leave _you_. “ McCoy continued, more stern this time. “I saw it all. I know what I’m talking about so you better listen. If he wants to leave, it’s probably to protect you – “

 

“Protect me?” _More like break me._

 

“What happens when you breach the contract?”

 

“Who said anything about breaching the – “

 

“Don’t insult me by lying to my face. You signed that shit, not giving a flying pig about it.” McCoy retorted, pointing to Jim’s chest while still keeping his eyes ahead. “Maybe Spock can’t bear the thought of something happening to your career because of him.”

 

“Bullshit.” Jim jibed back. “He probably didn’t sign because he can’t face me again. Maybe he’s ashamed, or – “

 

But if that were the case, then Spock would have just accepted his other options.

 

“If my hands weren’t occupied, I’d hit you. Oooh, I would so hit you right now.” McCoy scowled, tightening his hold on the wheel. “I’ll say this again. I saw it all - Every look, every flirtatious and dirty innuendo. I saw you two fight each other, and fight for each other. He took you in even though the council thought you were going to waste their resources because of your preexisting condition.”

 

Jim winced. Anastasia and Markus wouldn’t …“They said that? About me?”

 

“All of them thought you were one of those insane people that judged for fun, Jim. You were asleep in one room while council talked about whether if they should kill you or not in the other. He ordered them to wait, to hear you speak your own words, which made no sense because he would have had no idea if you were being honest with him – seeing as he couldn’t access minds and all.”

 

It was those blasted recordings.

 

“I should have gotten rid of that device.” Jim admitted. “I shouldn’t have gone out for a jog. I should have stayed home with Bud.”

 

“There’s a lot of things you shouldn't have done, but they ultimately led you to Spock. It would have been facilitated sooner or later.” McCoy exasperated. “May I mention that this man was dead inside before you came into the picture? You thought you had it hard with Salvatus? Sympathizer or not, you’re human, Jim! You could hide and lie. Remember when Spock told you and the base doctor about the time people wanted to burn him? Guess who saw it all – _me_! I know what I’m talking about.”

 

Shit – McCoy did know.

 

“Karim was an orphan that Spock took in his arms and for some reason, something made him trust you enough to room you two together. Let’s not get me started on the last part of the SIM.”

 

Jim still couldn’t believe it. “God … we died Bones.”

 

“It was the only way out of your SIM, or you two would have been taken.”

 

That wasn’t the point. “But I brought him down with me.”

 

“And he was happy to. What happened in there was real to both of you.” McCoy declared as if Jim couldn’t say otherwise.

 

Jim whispered under his breath. “Both of us?”

 

He wanted to believe that it was real to him and to Spock, except a part of him was holding on to some realism. He wouldn’t be able to know the answer to his infinite rows of questions until he actually saw Spock. Spock wouldn’t even have to speak. Jim only needed to look at him to tell if what was between them was still there.

 

“And I’m telling you that it was real for him too.” McCoy shoulders dropped down, his face softening a bit. “Jim, it’s your job to clarify this, ‘cause this mess will only be handled if you don’t hide behind your insecurities.”

 

“But – “

 

“Man up, Jim!”

 

**.**

**.**

**.**

 

> _So we’ve received a call, and my staff suggested that I should apologize. I was told that it was ‘insensitive’ to call this a_ **_global issue_ ** _. The caller wanted to remind us that the SIM program is an issue concerning the_ **_United Federation of Planets,_ ** _because humans aren’t the only ones going through this._
> 
> _But I’m not going to apologize._
> 
> _Just think about it for a moment._
> 
> _Is it really my fault for saying what I said? My thought process is the thought process of my viewers. I mean, why else would you watch me?_
> 
> _Here we are, discussing Mr. Dhar and Admiral Amy Jackson, because none of the other Federation species spoke up about this in that historic movement that removed something that was a key aspect in making or breaking an officer._
> 
> _It’s that elitist attitude that made us forget about you, and now you all have this impression that apparently we don’t care. That’s not our fault, and you don’t deserve an apology._
> 
> _Sure you may party with us, have thrilling menage et trois’ with our sexy human selves - you may speak our languages and share technology, but when it gets down and dirty into discussing things like_ **_vulnerabilities_ ** _, we humans aren’t worthy. We're mentally weak because it's our_ **_biology_ ** _. Obviously we're the only planet in this quadrant to have ever had wars, murder, emotional heartbreak and more._ **_Obviously_ ** _._
> 
> _You had the power to be a part of the SIMs ban, but refused to since you had an image to uphold. You made us think this way, so until one or more of you guys speak up about this – This will continue to be perceived as a human issue, since clearly you all are just dandy.  
>  _
> 
> _It could be different this time. I’m just not holding my breath._
> 
> _So in conclusion - I, Celine Varra of Your Life Tonight says _ **_‘sorry, not sorry.’_ **

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~X


	36. POST SIM - PART NINE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another update!
> 
> Life hasn’t been treating me well, so I’m kind of stuck in this world at the moment.  
> There’s so much angst below, and before things get better – they're going to be worse. It’s a horrible formula that I have to follow. 
> 
> Warning: This features the insensitive and irrational men that are Jim and Spock. 
> 
> Song: Here With Me by Susie Suh & Robot Koch
> 
> Enjoy? Cry? IDEK…
> 
> ~X

** POST SIM – PART NINE **

 

> _My normal, boring civilians: If your professional occupation consists of sitting on a chair, scrolling through a PADD, and making people feel better about their mediocre lives, then you better open your arms wide for that royalty basket of credits coming your way._
> 
> _No, not me people! I know I’m the highlight of your evening and all, but I’m talking about **therapists**. _
> 
> _If you’re about to take that SIM – yes, I’m still talking about it – make sure you visit that old therapist that’s been gathering dust in the corner. Pick him or her up and give them a good polishing. While you’re at it, go grab those skeletons next to them._
> 
> _Make them extra shiny._
> 
> _If that fancy lawyer, Mr. Dhar, hasn’t made it obvious enough - I’m telling you that any dirty, scary, kinky secrets you have inside that conscious you own, are going to be exposed._
> 
> _It’s already enough that you're willingly committing your life to Starfleet, but now they can **own** you. Oh, they'll own you quite literally. Don't deny it.  
>  _
> 
> _Scary, isn’t it?_
> 
> _You’ve never had a therapist you say? Well go get one! You clearly aren’t confiding in anyone. Might as well tell someone that's legally obligated to shut their mouths._
> 
> _I’m starting to sound like I’m making this up, because no one’s coming to me. I bet you don’t even tell your spouse in bed, officers._
> 
> _It’s a fact that you guys don’t have confidentiality agreements. These are just tests – so maybe you guys are ashamed? Is this some Starfleet brotherhood garbage? Is this about **honor** , and keeping your integrity? _
> 
> _“Oh Captain, my SIM was just horrible!”_
> 
> _“Well you are too weak to be on my ship then.”_
> 
> _Come one! Does it really work like that? Is this why it took Admiral Jackson thirty years to tell you that you’ve messed with her life?_
> 
> _Is Starfleet a **cult** now?_
> 
> _Because it’s starting to sound like one._
> 
> _Now I’m sure you’ve all seen that video going around of that man who went off on that poor reporter – Good thing I don’t miss those days._
> 
> _Well, I’m here to tell you that this man was in fact **Commander Juriah Birney.** Turns out he didn’t like microphones being shoved into his face … or his daughter’s, who also happens to be an ensign._
> 
> _Such a beautiful Starfleet family._
> 
> _…._
> 
> **_ Reporter: _ ** _Any commentary about the resurrection of THE SIMULATION, officer?_
> 
> **_ Commander Birney: _ ** _No comment._
> 
> **_ Reporter: _ ** _Are you sure? People are getting more confused and the graduating class in the Academy are wondering what they should expect._
> 
> **_ Commander Birney: _ ** _Then they should speak to their professors and mentor._
> 
> **_ Reporter: _ ** _So nothing to add?_
> 
> **_ Commander Birney: _ ** _No._
> 
> **_Reporter: _ ** _What about … Hello, are you his sister?_
> 
> **_ Ensign Jessica _ ** _: His daughter and an ensign of Starfleet._
> 
> **_ Reporter: _ ** _Ensign? Anything you’d like to add about the program, ma’am?_
> 
> **_ Ensign Jessica _ ** _Please, I have a lot._
> 
> **_ Commander Birney: _ ** _Jessica, no._
> 
> **_ Reporter: _ ** _Have you taken yours yet?_
> 
> **_ Ensign Jessica: _ ** _I helped with the programming._
> 
> **_ Commander Birney _ ** _: You need to stop following us._
> 
> **_ Reporter: _ ** _Oh, interesting indeed. You’re so young though -_
> 
> **_ Commander Birney: _ ** _Listen here. You will not speak. All of you will not utter a word to me, because as of now – you don’t exist. You’re nothing but pests. This is a Starfleet matter – not the business of non-Starfleet civilians._
> 
> **_ Reporter: _ ** _But –_
> 
> **_ Commander Birney: _ ** _And do not ever speak to my daughter again, or I will end your so-called excuse of a career._
> 
> _…._
> 
> _Ouch, Commander. That wasn’t so nice of you. You and your pretty Starfleet daughter are hiding something though. All of you are, and someone will crack._
> 
> _Mr. Birney – When your daughter first told you that she wanted to follow in your footsteps, I bet you continued to stuff your mouth with that sweetened apple pie._
> 
> _Our third eye is directed to you now, and we’ll see more than that SIM ever did. This isn’t Big Brother._
> 
> _This is ‘Your Life Tonight’_
> 
> _And I’m **Big Sister** baby._

**.**

**.**

**.**

 

Viik’s words reemerged in Spock’s mind as he paced in his living room. They rang true no matter how many times he tried to look around it.

 

A part of him wanted to stay behind, and explain the turn of events to Jim in person. He should have, because Jim deserved at least that much.

 

The other part of him knew that his efforts to speak would be met with failure. He spoke enough for one day. He was immensely fatigued, and he was not prepared in any way to face the person he was bonded with.

 

_Was…_

 

Jim shared his views that he never intended to say a single marital vow in his life. Marriage was a complex structure that Jim was skeptical of, and yet – it was Spock that made Jim wish for it. Spock never asked for more detail – the statistics behind human bonds spoke for itself.

 

Despite all of that, they shared their vows - Vows that held significance to human and Vulcan relationships - Vows that were now void.

 

Spock was clueless as to why the personal relationship between him and Jim were of the concern of others. Granted, there were regulations, however when one was being realistic … were they hurting anyone?

 

Perhaps this was just another consequence of the huge chain of strict regulations being enforced among the current officers. The SIM was the biggest, but only a part of many changes taking place.

 

Starfleet believed themselves to be too lenient, and they were rectifying it by ripping the problems from the root when the intention was to cut off the frail, brittle branches. Then they filled the empty holes in the field with salt – 

They weren’t cleaning the field – They were making it so nothing could sprout from it ever again.

 

Spock never believed himself to say ‘ _This is too strict’_ , and while many of his counterparts complained, he never listened – always thinking of matters as a ‘human’ issue.

 

It was an ignorant observation.

 

Spock internally commended Starfleet for this in the beginning, except when the SIM program was reintroduced – he was wary of it. In the end, he was always comfortable with the fact that it was a private test - One that he would pass with zero difficulties of course.

 

If only he knew …

 

Now his superiors observed his weaknesses – his struggles and insecurities. He was too emotionally compromised – he was angry.

 

So angry, it clouded his shame. It was a shame that never presented itself when in their presence today. They had to know their wrongs, and he made them well aware of it.

 

Komack in particular, jibed and jibed and jibed. Spock never paid such close attention to the snide commentary before, since they were mainly directed at Jim. Yes, he abhorred certain statements because Jim never deserved them, but now that he sat down and analyzed them … they somewhat had a xenophobic undertone.

 

He’s heard of multiple incidences outside of Starfleet influenced cities, but because of his sheltered upbringing on Terra - where he was exclusively around things that were related to Starfleet, he never experienced them.

 

His experience in the SIM reminded him that the image of harmony in this state did not reflect the rest of the world. It was because of that experience that he could dissect certain statements made today, and see them for what they truly were.

 

He expected them from his own people – not an Admiral.

 

Maybe there was more at play.

 

Either way, he was too tired.

 

Prior to returning home, every officer that approached him today received a quick, dismissive answer. He noticed former First Officer of the USS Xīwàng, Commander Fey, and she gave him a knowing nod – one that showed evident signs of sympathy.

 

To the others around him, his attitude was surely noticed, and he could not find it in him to care. This was a betrayal by the very organization he served. This betrayal was worse than the SIM Federation allies that abandoned the planet, because he could at least entertain the theory that perhaps they could not breach past the weapons. Rescuing the ones on Terra would have been a suicide mission.

 

This however … this breach of privacy, and unnecessary intervention in his life did not have to occur.

 

It was fitting that he should leave. Not only did he acknowledge that he could not look at Jim without the urge to reach out, he could not serve knowing that the people he worked for had no qualms in hurting those around them, especially those that were not human. He was not informed that his abilities would be removed. None of them had taken the time to bring upon the changes that had to be done – to put in the hours of work.

 

Worse, he believed his mother to be alive. The SIM gave him ‘hope’ that he would one-day return home. They made him confused as to why he could not connect with his parents, with his planet – as if he was the one that was broken.

 

Waking up was identical to experiencing the loss again.

 

The SIM made him feel alien to his current home that was Terra. He was despised. He was hunted.

 

McCoy would use the term ‘rigged’, and Spock found that he had to agree. He was familiar with the program since he saw fifteen so far. It was a complicated ordeal, however thirteen members of the crew SIMs achieved each standard. Their acts were commendable. The programs were reasonable.

 

This however, he was never prepared for.

 

This made him conclude that the joint SIMs were of a harsher level… or maybe Spock’s fears combined with Jim’s made it as unhinged and disturbing as it was.

 

Point was, he would never know.

 

Again – He. Was. Tired.

 

His urge to disappear from headquarters was so vast - he spit out the word ‘resignation’ just to leave. It was dignified and a more preferable route of action anyways.

 

Spock stopped his pacing, and discovered that he was not prepared to face Jim yet.

 _Jim, Jim, Jim_ – Spock was not safe in his own home. He had to go. The small fact of where he went, and how long he went, was of little matter to him as well. He was not ready for a confrontation of any kind. It was incredibly foolish of him to return home immediately.

 

With that thought, he made his way to the door with large strides. Before he could insert the security code, the beeping already started.

 

He was too late.

 

_Captain James Kirk has arrived._

 

Jim always spoke about the Universe and how it hated him. It was always spoken with a hint of humor, because Jim did not believe in fate.

 

Perhaps Jim was wrong. Perhaps he was wrong.

 

The Universe hated him too.

 

Spock stepped back with a gulp. Like Jim’s home, his system allowed automatic access unlike their quarters in the Enterprise. He regretted this customization the second the door slid open.

 

His body refused to listen, because if it did – he would have run far, far away. He should have locked his eyes with Jim just as Jim did, unafraid and un-intimidated, except he failed at that too.

 

It was Jim who made the first move by walking inside, letting the door shut behind him. They were close.

 

Too close for comfort.

 

Despite his wariness in Jim’s presence, he was relieved. Jim had more weight added to him, which was an acceptable, healthier amount. There was more color to Jim, and his hair had a cleaner cut.

 

McCoy did not have to do any of this, but he took care of their bodies – and for that he was grateful.

 

But what he saw was his Captain.

 

This was not James, his lightrunner.

 

Jim’s quizzical stare disappeared within seconds, for his Captain gazed at him from his hair to his toes with a softened expression. It was absurd to feel nude under that stare. Jim saw him in every form and displaying almost every type of emotion.

 

Against his rationale, Spock’s breaths became deeper as he caught sight of those lips he became so familiar with. That was the only mouth that carried words that could provide him solace. That was the only mouth capable of making him forget himself as he writhed under it.

 

He was indeed correct in his assumptions. His original attraction was heightened to levels that were beyond reasoning with and possibly controlling. It would be an unlikely endeavor to see his Captain the same way ever again.

 

Prior to the SIM, he long acknowledged that perhaps if their first impressions were not so tainted, this love would have developed faster.

 

He understood that if their memories were to be tampered with, like many other SIMs, then there was only one outcome, and that was Spock wanting _everything_ of the man in front of him - Everything that was not allowed to him before.

 

There was literally nothing stopping him from wanting it all and acting on it. When he confessed that all his hope resided in Jim, he meant that he wished Jim would reject him – showing him reason. He would deal with it when he woke up, because at least the other outcome would not be broadcasted.

 

The moment he received Jim’s notice for the SIM appointment, he stared at the screen of his comm as if the words would spontaneously change under his glare. A time and date started the countdown for the inevitable.

 

Jim took a hesitant step forward, noticing Spock’s hypnotized stupor.

 

He heard Jim call his name, and Spock’s mind instantly steered to thoughts of how Jim whispered it all over his flushed skin.

 

Today was a day of many firsts, because he was biting his tongue to prevent himself from speaking. All his words used to be calculated and carefully thought upon before exiting his lips. It was a trust that was eliminated after the SIM.

 

He needed to _leave_.

 

“Aren’t you going to ask why I’m here?”

 

Spock added more space between them in an instant, walking further into his house. He heard Jim’s footsteps tread closer to the center of his living room. He could have been deaf, and he still would have sensed Jim coming closer.

 

He could sense his surroundings perfectly now.

 

After he woke up from stasis, he saw Jim’s sleeping body, and felt nothing besides the general love that has already grown for his Captain. Except now, he was unable to feel the bond that had grown within their SIM. Of course his mind recognized Jim and still wanted to connect, but everything that has developed in the program was gone.

 

Deleted forever.

 

“Don’t you care to know what I did, Spock?” Jim questioned him with a harsher tone; clearly irritated that Spock was not speaking.

 

It would be a dream if Jim arrived here to tell him he did not sign, and that he was here to come with him instead. He did not know of where yet, but that was of little consequence.

 

But as all dreams, they never came true. Dreams and fantasies were never meant to melt with reality, because there were always conditions attached to them. One of them for instance, would be that he would never be happy with Jim, knowing that he was the reason that Jim could never see the stars again. It may not be now, it may not be three years from now, but one day Jim would despise him for what he influenced him to do.

 

Spock would never be happy if … no, he would not be sane if they did embark on their mission together – unable to love one another.

 

He prepared his mind to cooperate with him. “I am already aware that you agreed to the terms that were presented to you.”

 

Jim’s brows shot up. “I did. I know you didn’t, so I’m here to ask why?”

_Because I desire to be your mate in this world and the ones after._

_Because if I cannot stand near you right now, how can I serve on a ship with you under those terms?_

_Because if my feelings were unrequited, then I **violated** you._

Spock bit his tongue again, certain that it would be sore by the end of the day.

 

Noticing Spock’s silence, Jim reached out his palm with the intent to touch Spock’s cheek. Spock turned his face away as he stepped back again, well aware that the gesture would burn him.

 

Everything was closing in on him. He was the inmate of the prison that was his own home.

 

Realization of Spock’s deliberate avoidance showed on Jim’s face, thus halting in his attempts for contact.

 

“Talk to me.” Jim implored, directing his gaze to Spock’s face, refusing to look away.

 

The desperation in Jim’s voice was enough to break him.

 

He let go of his tongue to deliver the acidic words. “If you have not already opened your notifications, then I will personally inform you that I have submitted my resignation Captain.”

 

Jim’s face contorted before he finally turned away with light shakes of his head. “Captain, captain, captain…” He smiled wide enough to show teeth. “Wow, Spock.”

 

He knew that smile. The last time he saw it was when Jim sat across from him on a shaking floor.

 

_“We had a good run, didn’t we?”_

 

It was a smile that showed Spock that Jim was done. That he no longer wished to continue.

 

Since the destruction of Vulcan, Spock made a list of memories he wished to have eliminated, and this was one of them. He wished to eliminate all memories related to experiencing those same feelings of defeat and absolute depletion.

Spock memorized every one of Jim’s smiles. He wished to have been ignorant to this one because it was on the list.

 

“You’re avoiding the question.” Jim iterated, more sternly this time.

 

He had to speak, because Jim would only come closer, and he was not aware of how long he would last in this contained space. “As I have stated to you before, I do not plan to serve on another ship. Also, I did not sign because I have done many unforgivable things in the program. Your desire to have me remain on the Enterprise has become nonexistent.”

 

Spock saw Jim’s upper lip twitch before he tipped his head back, breathing in deep. He feared that Jim would faint in his home or begin those familiar tremors. He took an instinctive step forward to catch Jim if necessary.

 

Jim stared at him again, and then briefly glanced down to Spock’s moved foot.

 

No … Jim was better. Jim would not collapse.

 

“Nonexistent?” Jim mocked in a questioning tone.

 

“Indeed.”

 

“Unforgivable?”

 

“Correct.”

 

“Then isn’t it my choice to forgive?” Jim’s frown deepened. “What if I decide that there’s _nothing_ that needs forgiving?”

 

Spock would never forgive himself for returning to his house. That much he was certain. It was unfortunate that he had no places of solace on this entire planet besides here and Jim’s home. Because of that, Spock was forced to disappoint Jim again when he should have roamed in his craft without a destination in mind.

 

It was cowardly.

 

Jim’s posture remained still, seething authority that Spock had experienced many times before. Except now that he knew Jim better, Spock could see that Jim was trying to keep it together as well.

 

They both were.

 

“And what if I …” Jim’s voice cracked before he quickly covered his quivering mouth.

 

Spock had to stop himself from wrapping his arms around Jim. Jim was not his to hold … not anymore.

 

“… what if I want it to happen again, Spock?” Jim’s pleads pierced Spock all over. “What if I want you? What then?”

 

If there was ever a time to be logical it would be now. Jim came out of the program mere hours ago. Spock could not take advantage, no matter how much those words made his chest tighten.

 

“Because I do, Spock. I still want it all, and I need to be sure that you do too. Before I offer anything else, I need to know. Before I try to fix our future, I need to know what you’re willing to give me.” Jim confessed with small stutters. “Just … I know what we had didn’t come from nothing.”

 

“You have not shown any romantic interest prior to the program.” Spock began. He has seen Jim’s want for him, but that was only once. It could have easily been his hopeful imagination. Jim never showed signs of wanting a committed relationship. This Jim, his Captain, was not the council member that wanted to remain with him forever. “I can only perceive your words as a consequence of emotional transference.”

 

Jim winced back. “So the night before the SIM – “

 

Spock went back to biting his sore tongue. The direction of this conversation was becoming too much to endure. Jim was exposing him with each syllable.

 

“I regret a lot of things from that night. You confessed your worries about the program, and I should have taken them more seriously.” Jim squinted his scanning eyes. “We shouldn’t have eaten salt filled popcorn before our appointment. We should have slept earlier. We shouldn’t have watched movies about the end of the world!”

 

Spock thought about how that night was a key aspect to the formation of their SIM world. Except when one considered their history – it might have remained the same.

 

“But the one thing I regret the most is that I went to bed, because if I had waited a moment longer, I would've brought you in with me." Jim was stalking towards him with a predatory stare.

 

It was then that something clicked with Jim, and Spock heard the gears continue with full speed.

 

“And something tells me you would have came.”

 

Spock felt his nostrils flare. Jim’s ability to be blunt about his desires still caused the same reactions.

 

“At least then we wouldn’t be having a discussion about some stupid _emotional transference_ right now.”

 

There were times when he conjured images of what he would guess to be Jim’s pleasure filled sounds, Jim’s body in various positions, desperate begs mixed with crushing kisses to be followed by slow skillful ones.

 

They were obscene. They were embarrassing, but they were his.

 

The SIM cursed him by giving him those images, because they were engraved in his mind. No amount of meditation could repress them.

 

He was better than this.

 

He quickly turned away to conceal the heat climbing up his cheeks. Jim knew his expressions just like he knew Jim’s. He was uncovered, layer from layer.

 

He could no longer hide.

 

“I’m going to take a wild guess and say that everything in the program, was you and I doing what we’ve always wanted to do. There wasn’t any _intervention_ by some operatives. You need to own the fact that it was all a result of _us_.” Jim said, arms out with his palms up. It was a classic gesture of _‘I am in disbelief.’_

 

“We would have been forced to meet, sooner or later. But Spock, no one forced us to _fuck_. No one forced you to touch me, revealing just how much I scared you after Steven and I got admitted. Those add-ons knew, which means the operatives knew. They kept you away from me, Spock!” The string of SIM facts meshed with their reality kept coming. “They all knew that you would submit to your emotions, that you loved me, thus changing everything. They all saw it before I did. That was you, not me.”

 

Spock shut his eyes, hoping he could mute Jim in the process. “I ask that you cease speaking, Jim.” It came out as a weak request.

 

“Why?” Jim had no intentions of giving Spock mercy. “Because you don’t want to be reminded that you started it all?”

 

Another example of his failings.

 

Jim huffed. “Don’t lie to me, and say it wasn’t real. Don’t … don’t insult my intelligence like that.”

 

“We cannot compare reality to that of a fabricated world.” Spock wanted to find a corner to recoil in as soon as possible. “As Vulcan, I do not experience the same side effects. I see the situation for what it is.”

 

“Don’t preach about how you’re mentally better than me, when we both know you had it worse in there.” Jim exasperated. He emphasized his comments by pointing to his own temple. “As Vulcan, you should be more fucked in the head than me right now!”

 

He agreed.

 

“Is this your anger for what they did to you?” Jim was just guessing at this point. “Because this only damages _us_. I swear we will fight them together. They made you think your mom was still alive… They made you think that your world was fine.”

 

That was Jim. It was a natural mindset to protect him.

 

“They erased your history, Spock.” Jim added with an exhale. “I promised that I would bring ruin, but believe me when I say that we have a better chance at this if you stay with me.”

 

Spock failed at keeping his composure. He was not changing his life, just so Jim could risk it by being a martyr. Jim was not Amy Jackson, because Miss Jackson was an Admiral near retirement. She had nothing to lose, whereas Jim had every opportunity sitting on the path, just waiting to get picked up.

 

Granted, Jim would not be punished directly for his actions, but sometime, somewhere, something would happen.

 

It was taboo to discuss the SIMs. At first he believed the speculations of those that took their SIM in the past to be dramatic, mentioning that some lost their potential promotions, had demotions and whatnot because of it.

 

Like many officers today, he thought the comments to be mythical – creating some sort of unnecessary treacherous agenda. The ones that received a FAIL mostly made them after all. It could have been revenge.

 

Now everything was under perspective, and he feared it. This was out of their hands - Especially Jim’s hands.

 

“Your assumptions are incorrect. I am stable.” As in he could walk, talk and perform his necessary tasks. Feeling dead inside was irrelevant in contrast of being stable. “I do not require nor do I want revenge.”

 

_Please listen to me, Jim._

 

As pleasing as revenge sounded, he did not have the strength to be the spokesperson of emotional compromise, thus putting his people to shame. Many would state that his case was an improbable one in defense. A special one, despite what Viik informed him.

 

No one would speak.

 

At least no Vulcans.

 

Jim bit his right cheek, a small dimple forming. It was what Jim did when he was preventing himself from shouting. “I’m not wasting my time with this bullshit.”

 

“Then I suggest you take your leave, Captain.” He had never been so lost. Spock wanted Jim gone, and he wanted Jim to stay.

 

“You call me _Captain_ , but your home computer automatically lets me in. Same for my house, Spock.” Jim showed no signs of leaving. “You call me _Captain,_ but we have sleepovers and dinner dates. You call me _Captain,_ even though you accept all my touches no matter how supposedly invasive. Tell me … tell me of another crew member that rests their head on your shoulders while caressing your arms?”

 

Spock clenched his jaw. Jim knew, and he could not confidently determine how long.

 

“I doubted it before, but I know those lingering gazes were signs of your attraction towards me. You obviously thought me attractive enough in the SIM since the first night we met, and I looked like complete shit then. So you don’t get to stand there and say _Captain,_ when I’m trying to wonder what the fuck this thing between us is.”

 

Spock breathed in, unaware of what to say. Growing up, he wondered how people could be speechless. Meeting Jim forced him to know how and why in incredible detail.

 

“So, no. I’m not leaving.” Jim declared.

 

Then the direction changed for the worst.

 

Jim tilted his head, his eyes determined and narrowed. “This is what you feared, isn’t it?”

 

Now this was the tone Jim utilized when he reached an epiphany. Unfortunately for him, they were mostly correct or promising ones. Jim’s ability to deduce a situation was a characteristic he found both fascinating and frightening.

 

Spock found himself against the wall. He’d been retreating with every sentence. Jim followed him without a care for Spock’s wish for space. The last time Jim confronted him with such anger, it ended with Spock’s hands around his neck.

 

Spock craved to do the same again, only to bring Jim’s face closer to capture those lips he already missed.

 

“You’ve wanted me for a while, haven’t you? You don’t experience this ‘emotion transference’ because there is nothing transferred.” Jim placed a palm on the wall beside Spock’s face. “You feared what we would become, because in truth…”

 

Jim moved his other hand to Spock’s, and the electrifying sensation went right through him. If he ever doubted anything before, then this would have relinquished it all. Jim was searching for his fingers … and specific ones at that.

 

His heartbeat increased enough to hear it with his own ears. Jim was trying to kiss him.

 

“You already loved –“

 

Spock moved away with haste, covering one ear with the sole of his palm. This was becoming too much to handle. He needed Jim to cease speaking entirely. “I do not understand your prerogative Jim. You preach about attraction, love and wanting, but the reality is, you _signed_!”

 

It was the decision he wanted Jim to make, but it was also a decision Jim had to accept.

 

Jim took his hand off the wall, blinking at his vacant palm. “It doesn’t mean I agreed to the terms…”

 

Fantastic. Illegal activities were what they were now reduced to. What was Jim honestly thinking? Did Jim truly wish to share secret kisses in the corner and cover each meet-up as an official matter?

 

How could they possibly go from having a public mock wedding, to not even having the luxury of sharing any gesture of love, let alone the gestures of friendships that would constantly be questioned?

 

They would not even have a chance. It would suffocate them.

 

“This is your career.” Spock jibed back, forever stunned by Jim’s recklessness. “And you mention it as if it obtains zero value. You are not immune to repercussions simply because you have become the well esteemed ‘golden boy’.”

 

This was not meant to turn into an argument. Jim once again had him in a position where he found himself expressing his thoughts with riddled emotion. Jim was once again suggesting the insane, but Spock made sure to not ride along with it this time. Not with this.

 

He continued, making careful sure that his voice did not falter. “This is our situation. It would be wise to adapt to it, because I refuse to alter my decision that was made with the best of our intentions in mind.”

 

“And I didn’t have our best intentions in mind? They were going to get rid one of us if I didn’t sign. It could have been me, since it was my contract. But it also could have been you, since they obviously don’t have a problem with treating you like crap.”

 

Jim’s agitation was so evident, so alarmingly loud – a bond was not necessary to feel it in his guts. It stabbed him over and over.

 

“Who am I, for you to end your career for mines, Spock?” Jim pointed at his own chest with gritted teeth. “Who the hell am I, to take the Enterprise away from you either?! You already lost one home, so how could you expect me to take your last one away. You said you’d rather leave than transfer. If there was a small possibility of that, I had to get rid of it because that’s my responsibility. That’s the only reason.”

 

Spock pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling the intense need to sit down. His knees were growing weaker. He required sleep. Real, non-drug induced sleep.

 

“I said I would choose you, and I did,” said Jim in a softer tone. “No matter how risky, I want us to continue.”

 

They could never be what they were.

 

“And in all honestly Spock… I was preparing myself for you to reject me. Either way, I want you to know that you can serve on the Enterprise. I won’t make it feel awkward. It would hurt, but I would suck it up and make it work, because I could never make you feel unwanted on your own ship.”

 

Jim was trying to say that they were both adults. If Spock signed, then they could be regulation-abiding officers.

 

It was a foolish perspective.

 

“And I sure as hell can’t serve on it without you, especially when it’s your orders and wisdom I’ve been following for months now.”

 

“My orders?” Spock walked right back to Jim, keeping them an arm’s length apart. Jim had no right to speak about his leadership. “My wisdom?”

 

Those soul-sucking eyes that Spock loved to stare into widened with shock. Jim immediately understood where he was going with this. Jim cursed under his breath as he wiped his forehead.

 

“Explain to me why I had to find out from Admiral Archer that you were involved in council’s decision to annihilate Camp Salvatus?” He questioned with his voice getting louder than he wanted. “You lied to me, Jim. You lied to me with such ease, I can only wonder what else you are hiding from me.”

 

Jim flinched as if he’d been slapped in the face.

 

Spock felt the exact same way when he was put on the spot, forced to justify Jim’s actions in the interview. He had to hide his shock and remain calm, all wondering why Jim would do this.

 

How did Jim do this with their bond?

 

“You never intended to confess.” Spock pushed and pushed, wishing Jim would just stop feeding him false hope. “You died with your secret.”

 

Jim shut his eyes and took a moment. “Don’t talk to me about secrets, when you and the majority of my senior staff lied to me about the severity of the SIMs.”

 

The situations were not identical in the least. “We were looking after our Captain. We were concerned for your health and future grade.”

 

Jim yelled back, walking around Spock’s house like he owned the place. “And I was concerned for your safety! For the base’s safety! I only want what’s best for – “

 

“You cannot keep saving us!”

 

This was a scream that should have never escaped his mouth. This was a scream that caused that cautioned expression Jim held when in a situation he was uncomfortable with. This was the same face he saw when Spock described how he wanted those extremists to be punished – to be burned by the fires forged in Terra – to be _judged_. This was a scream that caused a look he swore to never bring out of Jim again.

 

And yet again, he failed.

 

Spock walked to his circular breakfast table and sat down, hiding his face by putting his palm under his temple, between him and Jim. He could concentrate better with Jim outside his view.

 

“I’m not going to apologize for saving what I love. I know you want me to stop, but I just can’t.” Jim sniffed in, his shoulders tense. He trod towards the table in careful strides.“I love my ship, Spock. I love everyone in it, and … I love you.”

 

Endearments of any kind would twist whatever stability he had left in his mind.

 

“The reality is that we’re not going to live a domestic life in an isolated environment. We are supposed to be on this mission together.” Jim took a seat across from him, and seeing that there was nowhere else to look, Spock redirected his gaze to his lap.

 

“You may love me back, you may hate me or worse … you could be indifferent.” Jim folded is fingers on the table. “I’ll take whichever way you’ll have me, but you don’t have to leave. I can’t handle that, Spock.”

 

Spock noticed how Jim’s fingers were tightening in its own grasp. For a fraction of a second, he wanted Jim to separate those hands, then soon remembered that humans and Vulcan’s did not share that same trait.

 

Since the SIM cursed him, he could remember the feel of Jim’s hands on his bandaged ones after attacking a punching bag, always training for what was to come.

 

“This will not be your only mission.” It was his duty to make sure that Jim was grasping the bigger picture.

 

Jim inched back in his seat, and his throat moved. “I hope not.”

 

“Have you considered that if we were to succeed in hiding the true nature of our relationship, that we would be subjected to lie detector tests and intensive interviews when we return?”

 

By Jim’s face, Spock saw that he was correct. Jim had not thought about that at all.

 

“Do you still love me?” Jim blurted out, ignoring his query.

 

Spock ignored Jim’s in return. “If we were to fail and be discovered, then by the conditions of the contract, we will never serve on the Enterprise again.”

 

“Do you _love_ me, Spock?” Jim repeated with more emphasis on the word that Spock was finding out to be the source of many painful feelings. “C’mon, here. It’s five whole years. Once this whole thing dies down, no one’s going to care. This is just a crazy phase after all the scrutiny Starfleet’s been under.”

 

“I apologize, Jim. I cannot risk it.”

 

“Fuck that, Spock! We were on Vulcan together. You were on Tarsus IV. We see each other!” Jim let out another rugged curse. “By God’s sake, I know you.”

 

Suddenly, Spock felt the gust of wind from Jim quickly standing up and walking away.

 

Jim covered his mouth with his palm, and deeply inhaled for a moment before speaking again. “I’m here.”

 

Spock could not tear his eyes away. Not even in the face of impending death did Jim look so destroyed.

 

And he was the cause of it all…

 

“I’m here, and I’m begging you to not do this.”

 

It was selfish, but Spock could not hear another word. He would give in if Jim continued down this path.

 

Jim turned back to face him, barely composed. “Okay, so how about this – we keep it strictly professional during the voyage. We could relocate our quarters and never meet up after shifts like we used to. This Captain nonsense you like to do so much … we’ll keep it at that. At the end of the day, we’re a team Spock. You can’t expect me to serve with someone else here.”

 

This was desperation in its rawest form. “You mean well, Jim. You are genuine in your words, and they are true. However, your conditions are only temporary, and you are well aware of that.”

 

Jim might refrain from initiating sexual encounters. He might even refrain from casual touches altogether, but Spock already knew what would take place. He could see it so vividly.

 

It would all begin with him hearing rumors of Jim’s recent bed-mates that were used to satiate his needs. Jim was celibate for over a year, and Spock first hand experienced Jim’s hunger for relief, for completion.

 

It would fuel Spock’s exasperation, which he discovered to be something that was getting more complicated to control, especially when Jim was involved. Perhaps now that he could meditate properly (he assumed) then that could aid his goal for equilibrium, except he was not depending on it to save him. Not anymore.

 

Then, there would be occasions on the Enterprise when he would be alone with Jim. He did not know when or how, but as a command team, the fact was inevitable

 

Jim would then try to conceal his desire, and maybe he would have succeeded if the SIM never existed, however this current reality made such a thing impossible. They were once bonded.

 

Every minuscule action, gesture, pitch change, would perfectly translate in Spock’s mind. Also, each occurrence of Jim’s evident nervousness, breathing pattern changes, dry swallows would drive him to commit actions he would regret.

 

He reached the same conclusion. They would suffocate.

 

“Don’t … don’t twist my words like that. At least I’m trying!” Jim’s accusation was clear. He believed Spock to not be trying at all.

 

It was an incorrect assumption. He was trying … trying so hard to do what was right by them. “All attempts would fail.”

 

“Well what fucking choice do we have here, but to try!?!” Jim outright screamed at him again. “You didn’t violate me, so don’t bother preaching that nonsense. Just come with me, and we’ll forget everything that happened in the SIM. We were fine before.”

 

Lies. Spock was barely keeping it together before. At least he believed his feelings to not be reciprocated. Now that barrier was destroyed.

 

He remembered his first visit to Jim’s home without McCoy, and he most definitely remembered his shaking hands when he returned home after six hours and twenty-three minutes. It was not his intention to stay so long, however it was Jim’s small and quick suggestion to stay that made him remain longer. He could never deny that.

 

He came to discover that his presence was generally wanted, and he felt … happy. Then he grew confused because he _wanted_ in return.

 

“Jim – “

 

“You said you’d never leave me.”

 

And that – that right there made Spock catch his words. Jim was holding onto his last rope, pleading for Spock to change his mind.

 

“You said you’d choose me, so I’m holding you to that now.”

 

Spock never should have promised on matters he had no control over. It was yet another example of his willingness to succumb to Jim’s words without thought. His promise was a truthful one, but one he should have kept to himself. He wanted to apologize. “I cannot – “

 

“I’m not some animal, Spock. I won’t pounce you.” Jim interjected, louder this time. “I don’t see a reason for you to do this anymore. What’s wrong with my conditions?”

 

Everything.

 

“It is not that I cannot trust you …” Spock could not believe he was about to confess to this. Jim did not give him any options anymore. Viik was correct all along. “I cannot trust myself.”

 

Jim’s hands and lower jaw dropped. “You’re serious …”

 

“Just like prior to the SIM, I did not trust myself, and I was correct.” He clarified. “So I will follow my instincts this time, and make sure that I am not proven correct again.”

 

“You’re not even going to try?”

 

“It would be in vain.”

 

“You’re quitting the ship.”

 

“Affirmative.”

 

Jim took a retreating step back, frustration mixed with anguish plastered on his exhausted face. “You’re quitting me.”

 

Jim twisted his words and made them so rotten, the stench alone would kill the flies that tried to take refuge on top of it.

 

“I’m going to leave now.” Jim uttered with a hoarse whisper - his vocals worn out for the day.

 

Spock shot up to chase after him. He wished for Jim to leave before because he required time. Now that Jim was going towards the door, Spock wanted to hold him.

 

“I just …” Jim snapped his mouth shut, contemplating his next words while he looked at the door that would lead him away from Spock forever. “We endured a complete invasion together. Did you forget that? We got tortured by people that wanted to torch us like we were some abomination.”

 

Spock blinked, his whole face most probably losing color at the mention of Jim and him being judged.

 

“We took care of each other. You not only died with me, but you extracted the deepest thought from my head, and did the one thing I knew I wouldn’t have the fucking guts to do.” Jim croaked, his palms on the door, back facing Spock. “You said you would have ran with me, but you can’t bear to face another challenge?”

 

“You repeatedly say you see me, that you know me. Then you should know that my actions are my own, and they are to protect your future. Do not reduce this to a mere challenge, Jim.”

 

“The foundation of our relationship was built on challenges. Obstacle after obstacle. Hell, another one shouldn’t be an issue at this point. “

 

Spock swallowed, unable to speak. This was the salt to the wound. He could feel Gigi cutting his thigh once more, but the knife was Jim’s growing disappointment.

 

Jim’s shoulders stiffened, his back muscles emphasized under the thin material of his shirt. “I married you.”

 

_“Will you do me the honor of marrying me?”_

_“Only if I am allowed the honor of becoming your bond mate.”_

 

“I entrusted you with my darkest and best memories. We bonded, and as I’m speaking to you, I don’t feel a thing.” Jim answered Spock’s burning question. “I wanted to cry because of that, but I guess I should be delighted now. Right?”

 

Their bridge was indeed dead.

 

Jim’s hands moved to the keypad next to the door, and began inserting the code. Spock could not allow him to finish, so he touched Jim’s hand and attempted to move it.

 

It was an automatic gesture. It was also the wrong one. Jim quickly ripped it away, and turned around with glassed eyes.

 

“Don’t touch me.” Jim hissed, barely a slither of space between them.

 

“It is not my intention to hurt you.” He had to let Jim know that.

 

Jim needed to know.

 

The distressing laugh Jim let out was one Spock only heard when Jim was faced with something he viewed to be preposterous. The reaction was an appropriate one. He claimed to not want to hurt Jim, when Jim looked to be seconds from sliding down his door to the ground.

 

Despite his genuine intentions, the fact remained.

 

And the fact was that he _hurt_ Jim.

 

“You're really something, Spock.” Jim gulped, his voice slowly abandoning him. “I’m going to leave. I’m going to get in the craft and go to my house, all while trying to not look at the clear sky, and the buzzing people around me. I’m going to try and remember that I love them, and that I risked my life for them. We did that. You know, when we were a team.”

 

Jim then continued to jab in the code harder than necessary, and Spock could not find it in him to stop Jim again.

 

“I’m going to beat it in my head that this is a world deserving of peace and serenity, and all that junk. I’m going to remember all of that, because right now – I hate it all.”

 

The door slid open, revealing the darkening skies. Jim was about to expose himself out there … unprotected.

 

“I hate it all, because it made me hate you.”

 

It shut soon after, and Spock was alone - Completely and utterly alone.

 

  **.**

**.**

**.**

 

> _So some of you have decided to explain the consequences of the SIMs online, I see. I noticed a pattern here. It’s not a good one either._
> 
> _And because of this pattern, I’m sorry to say that you’re not credible. No respecting journalist would take you seriously enough to interview you. You want to know why we wouldn’t listen to you?_
> 
> _It’s because you’re not the ones taking the SIMs or you’re hiding that you have – All of you keep referring to the officers as ‘ **friends’** – But I bet some of those ‘friends’ are actually you, your siblings, parents, significant others or maybe an actual friend. Either way, you guys don’t say names. _
> 
> _No **names** – no **source** – no **credibility**._
> 
> _Here’s one by username **Gaven72_98:** “I don’t know what’s going on. My friend won’t talk to me, and she never takes her daughter swimming anymore. She almost had a panic attack when a thunderstorm came. This all happened right after her SIM, so this can’t be a coincidence. She says she’ll be fine. I don’t believe her.”_
> 
> _Here’s another by **FreedomReign:** “There was this guy in one of my classes before graduation, and his battle tactics were always disturbing. He served on a few ships since then, as have I. I heard he was about to become First Officer. Not saying any ships or anything… Good thing this SIM came along, because it also came to my knowledge that he got a FAIL. Guess our worries were confirmed. How he passed the psych exams, I’ll never know.”_
> 
> _… Obviously there’s a story here, but I’m not going to be inviting a friend, of a friend, of a friend._
> 
> _Enjoy your last days of **sanity** , soon to be graduates. _
> 
> _And good luck out there._
> 
> _You’re going to need it._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seriously ... 2016 needs to just pause for a moment.  
> Every time I turn on the news and log on online, I'm met with so many crazy things.
> 
> RIP - Anton Yelchin
> 
> After watching the first Star Trek Reboot, I binged all his movies. He was such a rising star. 
> 
> ~XIIVA


	37. PRE SIM - PART FIVE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! I know I crushed a few hearts last chapter.  
> Here’s another PRE – SIM chapter to make up for it. 
> 
> Also [SIM - PART TWELVE (Ch. 19) is now rewritten.] 
> 
> Song: I Hear You Calling (Acoustic) by Markus Shulz & CAYO
> 
> Warning: …feels?
> 
> ~X

 

** PRE SIM- PART FIVE **

 

 

> _“Wait – what?! You’re going to have to repeat that for the listeners out there, Cleo.”_
> 
> _“What’s there to repeat? It’s pretty simple. Civilians died as a result of what these people did.”_
> 
> _"They didn’t do it though."_
> 
> _"They had an involvement with it. So in my book, they deserve to go through a little trouble to see if they should even still serve.”_
> 
> _“You’re failing to understand. Not everyone has to do with the – “_
> 
> _“Everyone has to do with it! This is just one poisoned flock, and I for one commend Starfleet for cleaning it up. Those Academy students shouldn’t be complaining either. Seriously – they're lucky that they’ll serve with compatible crewmembers and a Captain that won’t turn into some rogue Admiral.”_
> 
> _“You sound rather passionate about this.”_
> 
> _“I have to be, because there were people that I loved, innocent people that – “_ **_  
> _ **

 

. 

.

.

 

 

It wasn’t long before Jim slammed the dash screen with a dramatic huff, and continued his driving. “I’m sorry – I just couldn’t hear another word.”

 

Spock wasn’t bothered in the least. “I was going to mute it myself.”

 

“The whole world is judging dammit. We’re all a bunch of celebrities again.”

 

“On the contrary, I believe that you are the celebrity. Your face has become synonymous with that of the entire Enterprise. In fact, when a non-Starfleet civilian thinks of – “

 

Nope. Jim wasn’t having any of that. “You’re lying.” He interjected.

 

“I recall to have told you before, Vulcans do not lie.” Spock replied in one breath. Honestly, didn’t Spock ever get tired of singing the same tune?

 

“No. You’re actually lying to me. Have you not searched yourself online?” He asked, more than curious. Conversations like these were guaranteed to bring up bad memories. He never initiated this topic with Spock before, however this seemed like the appropriate time. “Did you?”

 

“…” Spock’s silence was a blaring indicator.

 

“You’ve seen it!”

 

“Regrettably.”

 

This was glorious. “Regrettably? I’m going to frame those comments and put them on my wall.”

 

“I would advise against it.” Spock’s rigid expression invited all the teasing Jim had under his sleeves.

 

“There’s this one comment that talks about your hair flying in the wind – “

 

“Jim.”

 

That wasn’t even the worst one, and Spock knew it. “And then there’s one that specifically mentions the perfect curvature of your – “

 

“If you continue your statement, I will retaliate by quoting the comments I have come across about you. Verbatim.”

 

And just like that, the teasing was over. “You don’t play fair.”

 

“I do not play, Jim.”

 

“Fine.” He immaturely pouted, knowing damn well that Spock detested this reaction.

 

“Stop it.”

 

“Stop what?” Jim knew he saw Spock twitch in that ironed uniform. He decided to give Spock a little leeway and stopped his pouting. From the corner of his eye, he saw Spock deflate in his seat with relief.

 

Months ago, Jim started his mission to discover as much as he possible could about Spock, and he relished in the fact that he found at least one pet peeve. Apparently, it happened to be Jim’s face at times...

 

“We could be stuck in a battlefield or something.” He then blurted out.

 

Spock raised a brow, caught off guard by the sudden comment.

 

“The SIM, Spock.” He clarified.

 

Realization dawned on the half – Vulcan. “THE SIMULATION program is meant to judge character, Jim. If it were to solely analyze our battle tactics, then the Kobayashi Maru would have been sufficient.”

 

“We could be dealing with a hostage situation. Would, I, Captain James T. Kirk, let a fellow officer, friend, and family member die for the greater good?” He questioned in a theatrical fashion as he did a quick right. “Sounds like an episode title of ‘Your Life Tonight’ huh?”

 

The way Spock’s lips tightened wasn’t a good sign. “Jim…”

 

“No, Spock…” Damn it all. “It wouldn’t really be like that. Right…?”

 

“It is likely, however I must add that there are going to be a variety of situations. This could very well be one of them.”

 

“You guys did tell me that at least one round would require us to make a game changing decision.” He wasn’t looking forward to that - Any of it really. “How about this? Maybe I’ll be a normal civilian like Nurse Venning.”

 

Hopefully he wouldn’t be a murderer like her though. That was a morbid thought.

 

“Possibly.”

 

“But how will we meet though?”

 

“That will depend on our situation.”

 

“Maybe you’ll be a simple civilian too.” Now wasn’t that a funny idea. “We could pick out the same food from the grocery market. I could bump into your craft, and you start ranting about insurance rates.”

 

Spock did one shake of his head. “Unlikely.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Because my involvement in Starfleet justifies my presence on Terra.”

 

“Oh.” Couldn’t Spock be wrong for just once? “How about this? Maybe we become friends instantly.”

 

Spock pondered on those words. “Elaborate.”

 

“I mean we could be best buds, Spock. No Kobayashi Maru bullshit. None of that, trying to take command from one another type of stuff.” It was possible to be friendly. Or maybe they would get at each other’s throats again. He sure hoped not.

 

“Friends?”

 

Hopefully. “Yep.”

 

Spock’s answer was swift, leaving no room for speculation. “I doubt it, Jim.”

 

“Why?” He almost wanted to whine at that, but he had dignity. Just a simple _‘Why?’_ \- not a _‘Don’t you like me?!’_

 

There must have been something really interesting outside those windows, since Spock was sure glued to it. “I would prefer to keep that to myself.”

 

Jim let his curiosity swallow him whole. “What’s so wrong with me that we wouldn’t hit it off?” He could be a likeable guy.

 

“It is a fact that our first conversation had much to be desired.”

 

 _And who’s fault was that?_     “… That was all you, Spock.”

 

“That is merely your opinion.”

 

“Well my opinions are fact.” He answered with a tsk.

 

“If you believe so.”

 

“You’re insulting my logic in your head, aren’t you?” Spock definitely was.

 

“I am thinking of more important matters. For an officer that is about to insert himself in an unknown simulation, you seem to be … “

 

“Nonchalant?”

 

“That would be the appropriate term, yes.”

 

“I have to be, Spock. Did you come across some of the statements from before?” And man, were some of them horrible. There were fair shares of good ones at that. There was this hilarious one about this officer that proposed to his girlfriend at home right after. The spectrum was ridiculously wide.

 

Spock nodded his head, adjusting his cap for a quick second. “I have.”

 

“Then you’ve read Admiral Jackson’s speech, right?”

 

“Yes. I have watched it as well.”

 

Jim wondered how she would feel about this. Maybe if she were still alive, then this wouldn’t be happening. “She faced her biggest fear. We could be facing our fears, Spock. Do you ever think of that?”

 

Spock did this weird thing he always tended to do, which was opening his mouth and shutting it again with no sound. It was when he parted his lips again that he spoke. “Perhaps this is intrusive, but what do you believe to be your biggest fear?”

 

Jim wondered if he should even answer that. But then again, Spock deserved to know. They were doing this together after all. “… Wow. Umm, I guess it would be the game.”

 

He couldn’t have made that sound more stupid. Would Spock question it if he hit himself on the head?

 

“The game?” Spock squinted his eyes in thought. “As I recall, you favor games, no matter the nature. You frequently indulge in verbal games in your conversations - Our conversations in particular. You also enjoy chess – “

 

Not literally. “That’s not what I mean. I guess the proper way of explaining it would be a chase of some sort. I would rather fight what I have to fight, instead of just running. I don’t ever want to be in a situation where I would have to keep an eye open all time. A situation that would rob me of any sleep. Just one long, useless chase."

 

“An odd perspective.”

 

“I would want to just get it over with, no matter the outcome. Game over.”

 

“Even death?”

 

Even death. “If it leads to that, then I guess that’s how it’ll be. Not that I would be giving up, but it sometimes doesn’t make sense to prolong the inevitable. Just fight, you know?” He gave Spock a quick glance before looking ahead. “So, what’s yours?” He asked after clearing his throat.

 

“Mine?”

 

“Your biggest fear. You asked me, so it seems fitting to redirect it to you.” He really wanted Spock to tell him. Not just for satiating his curiosity, but as a sign that they could confide in one another.

 

“….” Spock’s hesitation was something that made Jim regret his query instantly.

 

He gripped the wheel tighter. “You know what – It’s okay. Just nevermi- “

 

“Toleration.” Spock looked away the moment that word escaped his lips.

 

A million alarms went off in Jim’s head. “… As in someone that tolerates?”

 

“Correct.”

 

 _What the hell?_    “Tolerates you?”

 

“It is self explanatory, Jim. I would prefer to not expand on it.”

 

He wasn’t going to let this go, mostly since he knew there wouldn’t ever be another chance like this again. “Oh, we are. You opened this jar of cookies.”

 

Spock gulp was a loud one.

 

“So when you say tolerate – do you mean someone that doesn’t fully accept you? Does that mean in any relationship? Your associates, your close peers, your future spouse even?”

 

“That would be an accurate way to describe it, yes.” That smooth voice lost most of its confidence, and Jim just wanted to stop the craft and give Spock one tight hug. A hug so tight, Spock would feel it for the rest for the day. A hug so tight, it would make Spock remember that he was held.

 

“That isn’t only it – is it?” That couldn’t be it. ”You don’t want to be a burden.” He concluded. The two fears normally coincided with one another.

 

Spock’s right hand was slowly forming into that of a fist on top his knee.

 

There was something chewing at Jim’s heart, if the sensation of his chest tightening was anything to go by. “Holy shit, Spock – that’s … that’s deep. That’s a huge psychological issue that needs to be dealt with.”

 

“By your words, Captain - Are you saying that you believe your First Officer to have psychological deficiencies?”

 

_No, no, no._

 

“That’s not what I … God, Spock – Don’t twist my words.” _Please understand me._ “What I’m trying to say is that, that kind of fear doesn’t come from nothing. It doesn’t pop up from out of the blue.”

 

“How did _the game_ become your biggest fear?” That question should have sounded like a challenge because of Jim’s poking, but instead it sounded genuine.

 

Spock truly wished to know, and it was something Jim would answer, just not right now. He was too caught up in this confession.

 

“We’re talking about you, Spock.” He settled. “Is this about you being half-human? Did your people make you feel like a burden? Someone to just be tolerated at best?”

 

When Spock shifted in his seat, Jim knew he was spot on. “Jim, I cannot speak of – “

 

“Because that’s complete and utter shit. You’re a freakin’ blessing to anything you touch. I hope you know that. By being different – that means you’re more capable than any Vulcan, more than any human. You have both worlds under your belt.”

 

“That also includes the disadvantages and shortcomings of both worlds – “

 

“No negativity allowed in my hovercraft – “

 

Spock’s scoff was a little one, but Jim heard it nonetheless. “I have seen fears manifest in these programs. A fraction of them have become the sole focus of the SIM world.”

 

“Then conquer it by being you. Don’t change into some fucked up view of what you should and should not be. That’s not your character, and the SIM won’t allow it either.”

 

“You do realize that your advice becomes redundant the moment we enter the SIM?”

 

_So?_

 

“I’m confident that I’ll say the exact same thing, Spock. You won’t be alone in this one.” Jim declared. “In fact, SIM Jim is going to tell you many things. Things like _‘It’s impossible for you to be a burden, or some measly inconvenience,’_ and _‘You are you – one unique you. And not in a biological sense, but because of what’s in your heart,’_ SIM Jim would also say that _‘You listen, you have feelings, and you contribute. You breathe. You aren’t and can never be a burden, because of the simple fact that you are here. You are a part of the universe - just as much as any one of us.’”_

 

Jim was going on and on, while glued to the road ahead. He couldn’t dare look at Spock, because there was a second he saw Spock’s brows furrow together, and that unsettling stare that Spock did when he was contemplating on a confusing matter.

 

He continued regardless, seeing that he would be damned if Spock thought anything less.

 

“And no one in this world, and those add-ons in our SIM, can say that you’re a burden or that they just tolerate you, because that shows that they don’t appreciate the good things, the better things, the beautiful things. I for one have the best First Officer in the fleet. That’s not just because you’re an incredible benefit to the Enterprise, but also because you’re my friend. I don’t tolerate you. I care for you.”

 

It didn’t matter how vulnerable he felt as he said these words, because Spock was more vulnerable for even mentioning this. Spock unfolded himself to him. Jim wasn’t going to just say _‘okay’_ – he was determined to let Spock know every aspect of his thoughts when it came to this topic.

 

Every. Single. One.

 

Spock was cherished.

 

“To believe that you could ever just be tolerated – to believe that you could be a burden, Spock – that means that you believe nothing will change if you were to ever leave in any way. I say, and SIM Jim will say that everything would change.”

 

He sucked down his hesitation, and let the facts come tumbling out. They were still a long way from headquarters, so he would have to sit and face what Spock would say – if he said anything at all.

 

“It doesn’t matter which person I am. Our worlds would shake in cataclysmic volume.” And that was the undeniable truth.

 

One didn’t have to be a telepath to sense how the aura changed between them. The hum from the craft was all that sang in the air as they moved forward. He surveyed the route ahead of him, too nervous to look to his right. He could feel Spock’s eyes scanning him, and translating every minuscule movement.

 

Another turn later, and Jim should have been able to relax his muscles, since this path was a straight one until they reached their destination. But, nope. Jim welcomed the tension in his bones.

 

He was also extremely saddened by Spock’s fear, especially when he let it sink in.

 

Spock finally looked straight ahead, and Jim knew exactly when, since he no longer felt those eyes on him.

 

“SIM Spock will tell you to sleep.”

 

Jim almost lost control of the wheel. “…what?” He croaked, shock still vibrating through his system.

 

Spock clarified without pause. “SIM Spock's primary objective will be to make certain that you are never part of the game - So that you may never fear your surrounding environment. So that you may never sleep with one eye open. SIM Spock will remain alert so that you may find peace, even if momentarily. SIM Spock will fight with you, and most importantly, SIM Spock will tell you to sleep, because his presence will enable you to feel comfortable enough to do so.”

 

Jim didn’t trust himself to speak.

 

He didn’t even trust himself to breathe.

 

It was odd.

 

The silence was a comfortable one, but one still filled with questions. Both of them were unable to look at the other until Jim parked his craft. The buzzing of people around them did little to faze the two. Jim was sucked in by everything that was Spock - His demeanor, his scent, his aura, and his warmhearted declaration.

 

Jim was in so deep, he wasn’t even aware if an exit existed.

 

When Spock told him that they had to leave, he just did a simple nod.

 

After a hint of courage, he included a simple smile.

 

It took a long while, but he also added a simple joke.

 

Just keep it simple.

 

What else could he do?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~X


	38. POST SIM - PART TEN (1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!  
> It's been a hectic few days, and I highly doubt it'll stop any time soon.  
> Here is the first half of POST SIM - PART TEN.  
> I wish I could say that you can expect binge updates - sorry. 
> 
> Song: The Ways by Aloma Steele  
> Warning: N/A
> 
> ~X

** POST SIM - PART TEN (1) **

 

  
 

**  
**

 

A darker hue took over the foreign sky, indicating that the day was almost over.

Unfortunately, Jim was still programmed to take the absence of the sun as being a warning for the continuance of the purge.

Except there wasn’t a purge of any kind.

There weren’t any weapons.

This wasn’t the SIM.

The game was **over**.

 

On the ride back home, Jim made sure to keep quiet. Luckily, McCoy did the same.

Jim noticed that McCoy was well aware that if Jim allowed himself the luxury of uttering a single syllable, everything would just flood out without demand.

 

He had two objectives today.

One - Get Spock to reverse his decision.

Two - To discover if Spock's love for him was real.

 

By the blaring sadness in Spock's eyes, and by the way Spock briefly entertained how this could 'hypothetically' work out, it was plain to see that 'Objective Two' was a success. However, it was a success that didn't feel like one at all. Since when did successes open wounds in the soul?

 

The dysfunctional part of him wished that Spock had zero romantic feelings for him. Of course it would break him, but he would get over it … eventually. At least that way – He wouldn't feel like he missed a chance at happiness.

Because the case was that there was a chance. Spock was just the one who refused to grab it and make the most out of it.

Instead, Spock made it crystal clear that the only way for them to be together was if there was no contract to begin with. It was for Jim's own good and Spock's.

Spock expressed that all attempts would fail, which meant that he couldn’t live within these limitations. All efforts would have been futile.

 

Before the SIM, when Spock admitted that he would choose him, Jim should have asked for more clarification.

This wasn't what he meant.

Spock and his _stupid_ loopholes. 

 

“Damn it.” McCoy hissed.

 

The ringing in his ears were either from his headache or from McCoy’s pocket again.

It wasn’t long before McCoy inserted his palm in his pocket and quit the call.

 

“You should go when you drop me off.” Jim suggested. “I’ll call a cab for you.” This was his craft that he was sitting in after all.

 

“I’m not leaving you this soon.” McCoy replied with a heavy sigh. He was one turn away from Jim’s driveway.

 

“It's late. I'm going to sleep, and someone obviously needs your attention right now. Don't let me hold you back. I've done enough of that this month.” He said when another set of sounds filled in the silence. It was soon turned off again.

 

_... Ring_

_Ring._

_Ring._

 

Jim was seconds from telling McCoy to just turn off his device entirely.

 

“You never hold me back, and this isn't someone that can’t wait – “ McCoy said as he hit the break, stopping the hovercraft right at the edge of Jim’s house.

Something caught his attention. “Jim …"

 

Jim looked outside of the window. What he saw caused him to let out a gust of air. He could never catch a break.

The day's events must have taken a toll for the very fact that he forgot this one simple thing.

 

“Fuck.”

Spock’s hovercraft was sitting right there, staring at him – being the stupid, taunting symbol that it was to his psyche.

“God dammit.” He added, echoing his friend.

 

McCoy drove forward and parked right next to it. In an instant, both of them exited their hovercraft and walked around the intimidating object, making their way to the door.

 

It automatically slid open by recognition, and he trod inside the new place he called home.

After getting rid of the other, he was captured by this one from the moment he moved in.

 

Now … he slightly detested the environment since it reminded him that all he did was move, move and move. Even in the real world, even when he reached a pinch of stability – he still had nomadic tendencies.

 

From the corner of his eye, a glistening piece of metal caught his attention. It was plastered on the edge of the kitchen counter ahead of him, and it made him cringe.

 

“Take his keys.” He demanded as he walked into his kitchen, manually increasing the percentage of his lights. “He hates cabs, and he definitely hates the bus. He said he didn’t ‘prefer’ it, but his point wasn’t hard to miss. Too many people on the bus, and the awkward small talk in the cabs make him annoyed, Bones. It's funny 'cause he must have taken one today. God knows that shows just how desperate he was to get away from me."

 

McCoy stopped in his step, looking directly at those keys. “I can’t believe you let Spock stay here again. You never listen.” The reprimand wasn’t as judging as it would normally be. “And the night before your SIM, Jim... really?”

 

If McCoy didn’t feel so sorry for him at the moment, Jim would have definitely been subjected to another set of lectures without a doubt.

                           

In the midst of all the heart to heart, junk food and pre-warp apocalyptic movies, Jim informed McCoy that Spock was in his house again, but refrained from mentioning that they were having another sleepover.

 

It was McCoy that told Jim to stop this whole compulsive routine in the beginning, because of the media’s sneaky tactics. They would surely notice Spock’s craft in his driveway a few nights a week, despite the fact that this was quite an isolated area. Increased media attention equaled stress, and McCoy loathed anything that added stress.

He vividly remembered McCoy’s irritation when both him and Spock arrived together for their SIM. McCoy responded by uttering a knowing jab of a joke about them obviously coming from the same dang craft, and exiting from it right outside of headquarters for the whole world to see.

 

Spock refrained from answering while Jim laughed it off.

 

It felt like a measly affair.

 

“Bad routines we’ve been forming, right? Besides the getting married and the assisted suicide part.” Jim cynically let out a chuckle. “You know what …” He jumped down the three little steps by the corner of his kitchen and ran to the main restroom.

He found what he was looking for within seconds.

When he returned to the living room, he avoided McCoy’s judging stare and slammed down the little basket on the counter.

 

“Take his toothbrush and creams too.”

 

"Jim."

 

"Nope. There's more."

 

He then proceeded to the guest room, hearing his friend call to him with urgency. Once inside, he thanked everything that existed in this Universe that Spock’s scent was barely there.

But it was still there, and that was enough to cause him to start stripping the bed Spock slept on twenty-eight days prior.

He knew that he looked like a mess while doing it.

 

“I get it, kid - but you need to rest first." McCoy said by the door. "I'll clean out the place, but you have to consider your priorities."

 

Jim huffed as he shoved past McCoy, holding one blanket and a few sheets that were scrunched into a ball near his chest.

“Burn these.” He said when he dropped the materials his floor. If he appeared to be some spouse that got his heart broken … Well, wasn’t that an accurate description?

 

McCoy chucked Jim’s keys on the kitchen counter when he returned. “Now you’re just being immature.”

 

Jim could swear that everything in his home reminded him of Spock, which was a disturbing observation, since this was his freakin’ house.

He wasn't being immature. He was cleaning house.

 

“Computer!”

 

_Awaiting command._

He hated her voice. Quickly, he made a mental note to change it whenever possible. It sounded too close to the one that failed him in Warehouse 15.

 

He would give it an Australian accent or something.

Just anything but this...

 

“Restrict automatic access for Mr. Spock.”

 

With the way McCoy’s face morphed into a deep frown, one would think the man felt sorry for the ‘hobgoblin’.

 

“Why so gloomy?" He scoffed. "I thought you wanted us to stop this habit, Bones? Last thing we need is the press to know that my First Officer basically has his own spot in my driveway, toiletries in my main restroom and a _room_ to boot!”

 

“You know damn well this isn’t what I mean.”

 

Oh, well.

 

McCoy noticed that Jim wasn’t going to budge. “You can’t be serious here.”

 

_Mr. Spock’s status has been updated._

Jim breathed in deep, and narrowed his eyes. He didn’t care much for McCoy’s apparent vexation today.

“Very, very serious.”

_Permission now required upon entry._

He cursed under his breath when he realized that he forgot a few more things. Honestly, Spock wasn’t his live-in significant other at all – so what the heck were they doing since he moved in here? Jim was reevaluating everything, because this process shouldn’t have been happening. It shouldn't have been possible.

Now that he was awake from the SIM, and now that he acknowledged what they meant to the other … what they _supposedly_ meant to the other – he discovered that their previous behavior was a childish one.

 

The way they tiptoed around the other was worthy of Colosseum filled guffaws.

They were grown adults that had to be thrust into a world of pixels to get everything off their stubborn chests.

 

With that enraging thought in mind, Jim ran right back into the guest room as if there was a forging fire building behind him.

 

A curse escaped his mouth when he entered the space that still had Spock’s presence floating around it. Fuck it all to the depths of hell - it was humid in here, and he only just now noticed. He didn’t change the settings prior to embarking on the shit storm that was the end of his life.

He wished he could say that he simply forgot, however the truth was that he never bothered to. It would have been pointless.

Spock never reminded him either, since they both knew that Spock would inevitably come back.

But Spock wasn't coming back anymore ...

 

“Christ, Jim.” McCoy followed suit with a shake to his head.

 

By the time Jim opened a drawer to retrieve the one emergency outfit Spock always had in there, McCoy took hold of his arm.

This was the outfit that Spock would wear the next day when Jim spontaneously asked Spock to stay.

 _‘It is logical to leave one behind, so that I am not obligated to bring one on each occasion.’_ said Spock.

 

Jim was the one that asked Spock to stay every time. Never did Spock ask for himself.

But Spock expected it because he would replace these clothes every time, and seriously – what the fuck?

This outfit wasn’t an outfit at all. This outfit was a manifestation of Jim’s desperation for company.

 

It wasn’t as if he didn’t have enough of it already.

He had plenty.

He had loving crewmembers and friends that drove all the way out here to see him.

They came to check on his progress, do the SIM summary reports and generally speak about their excitement for the mission.

 

But still…. Spock’s company was similar to a healing agent that Jim shamelessly sucked in at every possible opportunity.

 

When did he become so needy?

 

“You need to sit down.” McCoy wasn’t suggesting. He was giving Jim an order. “You need to take a shower and as shocking as this may sound, your body needs actual non-fluid based sustenance.

 

Jim should have obliged, but his mind was determined to remain on this one track of thought. “The chess board is under the couch.”

 

McCoy flinched back in bewilderment. “Excuse me?”

 

Jim shoved his captured hand in the drawer and grabbed the soft fabrics he used to caress while they were on Spock's body, then marched on his way out with McCoy still attached to his arm.

 

“This needs to go.”

 

He threw it onto the pile, hoping that he could grab an inch of satisfaction from the gesture.

 

After he took a step into the living room to get the game board, he was pulled further down. With a tug of his arm, he was dragged and thrown back on one of his couches. That worsened his migraine.

 

“The fact that I have to use physical force is astonishing!” McCoy paced in front of him with wide arms. “It’s like your ‘selective hearing’ just got more selective, to the point that it just mutes me out completely. You never did that - at least not to me."

 

When did the world shift in such a manner that people felt like they possessed the right to just grab him like that?

 

“Everyone needs to just stop – “

 

“Manhandling you? Shit, Jim.” McCoy cursed under his breath again. “Have you ever thought that it happens all the time ‘cause you’re so damn stubborn?”

 

The unexpected completion of his statement was what made Jim snap. “Just because you’ve seen some things, doesn’t mean you _get_ it!” No one was going to get his pain.

 

There wasn’t going to be a single being that understood this black cloud that was feasting at his heart, getting more and more hungry after digesting each piece – the chunks dissolving in the infinite pool of acid.

It would go for his soul soon... He just hoped it reached his brain before then, so that he could become unaware of his disintegration.

 

“No, I’m not claiming that I do.” McCoy retorted with gritted teeth. “I’m just the man that’s watched over you for a month! No ... since you've joined Starfleet! I’m just the man that’s seen you live with and escape from savages. I’m just the man that’s watched you die – again, when I swore that, that would never take place in my dang lifetime. But no, I shouldn't care 'cause I know nothin', right?"

 

"Bones - "

 

"No." McCoy put up his index finger. "I’m just the clueless man that had to make sure his friend didn’t get hurt when he seized in the SIM Med room too.”

 

He what?

 

“I haven’t done that in over six months.” And by McCoy’s words, that was supposed to be a one-time occasion.

 

“...The SIM proved too stressful.” McCoy sighed. “God, Jim. The whole SIM maintenance records should already be sent to you, but I’ll tell you now - that was the worst."

 

It would have been great if he only did it once in the SIM world too. Then maybe he wouldn’t have scared everyone so much. He couldn’t erase Karim’s panicked face, and he feared he would see it in his nightmares. The kid had already seen too much, and Jim just had to come along and almost die in their room.

 

But there shouldn't have been any guilt attached to it. He didn't scare Karim. He scared an _add-on._

With the image crossing his mind, he wanted to just bury his face in the cushion. He had to remind himself that he only worried Spock in the SIM and no one else.

The others weren’t real. None of it was real. All tight hugs, cheers and acknowledgments with the title of ‘Lightrunner’ weren’t real.

They were add-ons.

That was all.

 

“One day, you and I will discuss what you’ve been through. The things that I've seen, and freakin' heard makes me wonder how you're sittin' here now. But it’d be really stupid to bother you with all that, seeing as you look like you’re about to cry on me.” McCoy added with a concerning tone as he settled on the cushion across from Jim.

 

“I will tell you this though …" McCoy continued, "Don’t punish Spock. He thinks he’s doing good by you.”

 

Spock was the reason he was reevaluating everything about himself.

Granted, it made Jim a better version of himself, but he also unknowingly gave Spock the power to damage him as well.

 

“I … I poured out my guts to him on a silver platter, Bones. I exposed myself to him, and he just ...” He didn't miss Spock’s wide eyes from when he tried to hold his hand – when he tried to kiss Spock for the first time in real skin. He heard the hammer descend on his heart the moment Spock rushed away from him as if he was some plague. “I owned up to everything we did. There was no room for him to deny this … deny us. How is he doing good by me?"

 

Letting it all out was the right thing to do. He followed Bones’ advice and made certain that nothing could be doubted.

 

He was well aware of how his words impacted Spock. Then when Spock told him to cease speaking, he continued to deliver more evidence of this deranged relationship. His admissions were working, and Spock was so close …

 

“The things that we did …” He looked down to his trembling hands. These mental depictions of their love would never be wiped from memory. “The way he thought about me was like nothing else. That kind of affection shouldn’t exist.”

 

McCoy nodded. “Telepathy was involved, Jim. It’s nothing like a human relationship.”

 

“And although I somehow returned a portion of that to him, I never thought he was settling for me because of that either."

 

“M’Benga thought so in the beginning. Gotta say - despite the evidence M'Benga gathered, I didn’t think so. I know you guys too well. Spock wouldn't have used you.” McCoy informed. “I was proven right after a few hours anyways.”

 

And that was probably a couple SIM days to them.

 

“The telepathy made everything better. It made things clearer. It scared me at moments, but I never told Spock. There wasn't a point to it, because it didn't alter the fact that I wanted it all." He was human after all. "But he must have knew it. Heck, he was scared _for_ me all by himself."

 

"SIM Spock eventually gave into the risk, but I don't think our Spock will by going on this mission with us." McCoy commented. "It's not fair to assume that they would operate the same. At least not immediately."

 

"Our Spock and SIM Spock are the same. Just different circumstances ..." Jim whispered to himself.

 

"Spock needs time to come to terms with the fact that SIM Spock is him though."

 

"Their differences aren't all that much, Bones. SIM Spock had no ounce of shame, but that was because all those self-obligated restrictions just _melted_. Both Spock's are humorous and sweet. For example, SIM Spock didn't show his affection in some urgent _‘we may die any second’_ kind of way, but in a way that showed me that our numbered days didn’t matter. … It was something he just did. And you know what? It was something that was natural to him because he did it here, Bones. I was just too blind to see it for what it was."

 

McCoy didn’t show any signs of a rebuttal. Instead, his friend remained seated and listened.

 

"My Spock might not have been so transparent about it, but it was there. My Spock promised to protect me. My Spock cared for me. My Spock did the same exact thing, but in more subtle ways - it's meaning and power always the same, Bones."

 

These thoughts raged through his head. He should have quit this Spock infested marathon and tried to sleep.

Except that wasn’t happening any time soon.

 

“But the way SIM Spock touched – “

 

This was the one difference that was unquestionable. His voice broke apart at the words, unable to iterate his observations about his former First Officer.

 

Before his feelings started to grow, before he saw Spock in a new light – he just assumed that Spock was a plain, unaffectionate lover, and in all honestly – he barely thought of Spock in any sexual manner.

Perhaps a little natural curiosity occurred when Spock was with Uhura, but nothing more than that.

Come to find out ... Spock never slept with her.

Or was that a SIM manipulation because Uhura didn’t exist? Either or - Spock debunked all his assumptions.

 

Spock was … Spock was devoted. He also expressed his love, and made it known with every brush of skin. When Jim asked, Spock would make it known with words.

And that wasn’t the most shocking part. Spock used what he discovered in Jim’s subconscious and utilized it to his advantage. Jim enjoyed tender caresses, but he mostly preferred a tight grip. He wasn’t one to like it ‘soft’.

He desired to be conquered. His goal was to be in a trance of absolute pleasure, which would result in it being virtually impossible to think of anything else besides those hands seizing his willing body. And the way that he allowed himself to let go … the sounds that he purposefully let escape his lips - Spock knew it all and made it his craft.

These were the things he denied himself when he became Captain. It took a few months, but he eventually adapted to his situation. It was a change that he had to make a part of him like it was a limb. There was no other option.

 

Otherwise the consequences wouldn’t have been bearable.

Regarding the SIM, the first aspect he researched was the censor feature. If it was never there – He may have never taken the test.

 

 _... ‘Captain James T. Kirk was a little bitch in bed._ ’

 

That was never happening under his watch.

 

All of these desires used to be buried, and he pushed them further in with each day. Everything was getting easier.

 

But the cage was turned into sand, all cravings scouring the surface, and forcing Jim to restart completely.

 

“Get rid of everything for me, please. This is the last thing I'll ask of you. Please return Spock’s craft too.” He asked, his voice still parched from the screaming he did before. “I can’t do it.”

 

McCoy didn’t move an inch. “Jim?”

 

“What, Bones?”

 

“What did you do?”

 

“I told you. I basically begged.” And he would never do it again.

 

“There's something you're not telling me - " McCoy uttered more sternly.

 

He gulped and shut his eyes. McCoy discovered that Jim committed the deepest crime.

 

“… I said that I _hated_ him.”

 

The way McCoy’s face froze should have made it hard to discern any emotions from the older man. Instead, McCoy’s disappointment rang perspicuous, covering Jim whole.

 

He would've asked why McCoy cared so much, except the question would have been a vacuous one.

It made sense for McCoy to have his harsher opinions of Spock changed.

SIM Spock was someone to be in awe of. He would know –

He fell in love with the Chief.

 

And now the one person that confided in him, the one person who's biggest fear was to be a _burden_ \- currently believed that Jim hated him.

 

**.**

**.**

**.**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part two will come in due time.  
> PS - This story is officially bigger than UNKNOWN!  
> Why do I always do this to myself??


	39. POST SIM - PART TEN (2)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is Part 2 / 3 for POST SIM - PART TEN.  
> I'm not yet confident with the rest, so another section it is.
> 
> Song: Walk You Home by Karmina  
> Warning - McCoy's irritation. Forgive him. He's trying. Forgive Jim too. He needs a hug. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy! BTW - there is a minimum of 45K left for this story.  
> I have most of it written up, but the editing process is murderous. 
> 
> ~X

** POST SIM - PART TEN (2) **

 

 

**Another day. Another message.**

**McCoy says you're doing fine so far.**

**He wouldn't tell us the details obviously.**

**I wonder if you and Spock will reach the maximum. It's plausible since it's a joint SIM.**

**Pavel's wondering if Spock's being nice to you in the SIM. If not, then he has many words to hear from both of us.**

**Contact me when you get back into the real world. None of us care for the time. I don't at least.**

**\- HS**

**.**

**.**

**.**

 

Jim glued his eyes to the holoscreen as he sat on his couch, all showered up. His knees were up to his chest with a blanket covering him, providing some warmth. He held a hot mug between his palms, wallowing in this sadness.

He watched and watched all those on the globe judge Starfleet. Judge Starfleet when they have decided to be honest. It was not only recommended, but was pushed by multiple officers, including him. People had to know what really took place. Dishonesty would never win back the civilians' trust, they said.

It was the noble thing to do, they declared.

Jim should have known that it was a victory short lived. No wonder Starfleet resorted to deception, because this was what the truth got them.

Cruel criticism and pain.

 

> _“There’s no use on debating this. It’s clear that these tests are doing some damage. The students have spoken with much wariness.”_
> 
> _“But the current officers eligible haven’t – “_
> 
> _“Doesn’t excuse the fact that these tests shouldn’t exist. Starfleet went back on their promise, and yes, there is damage because of this.”_
> 
> _“What damage? Where are the concrete facts? Did you see the same thing I did? Was I the only one who saw a ship flatten buildings? That’s the damage we should care about.”_

Maybe if they had all lied and come up with a story that was better to digest, then Starfleet might not have resurrected the SIM to boost their own confidence within each other. The public would regain their trust in Starfleet.

It would kill two birds with one stone.

Hesitation was expected, however questions would ultimately be put to rest. Civilians wouldn't be insulted by some bullshit of a story.

 

But nothing was so easy.

 

> _“To punish those that have saved our planet, and to punish the future of those that wear Starfleet uniforms is highly unwise. Considering history, nothing makes us believe that it’s safe. Our queries have value.”_
> 
> _“It’s pretty stupid to do it if it’s not safe. So what, Starfleet’s lying to us now?”_
> 
> _“And they aren't capable of that?!”_
> 
> _“Now you’re just making horror novellas. After everything, it's obvious that they wouldn't just lie.”_

 

Another debate, just like the rest. Civilians discussed the SIM more than Starfleet officers nowadays. It was probably because the majority had nothing to lose, and everything to explore. This was pretty entertaining with a hint of added curiosity in the beginning. Now, it was another matter entirely.

 

People were becoming emotional.

Anger was fueled on both ends.

 

So much had changed whilst taking his test. For one, the Academy students were making it clear that they dreaded _everything_. They were gathering together to speak, unafraid unlike the current officers. Unlike those before Admiral Jackson. Two officers from retirement publicly mentioned the consequences they dealt with post SIM.

 

It made sense. Retired people didn't have to go through heavy lengths to keep their already earned respect. In fact, some probably didn't give a shit what others thought because they would go back home to their families - not surrounded by other officers daily.

 

The former Captain of the USS Antigone, retired Admiral Fitzgerald said that it was the most useless thing to come from Starfleet. In fact, the elderly man stated that all those that serve on the Federation Council should be taking it too. The President of the United States should be thrown into the mix as well. Of course that part was for added humor, since there was no correlation. However, if they wanted to be literal, the man was leading a nation. If people had to go though these tests to serve on a ship, then world leaders shouldn’t be ignored either.

 

To throw the cherry on the sundae, Edmond Dhar stated that THE SIMULATION resurrection applied to all those ‘serving’ and many forget that this includes the active Admirals. Granted, the program was mainly meant to instill crew compatibility and provide efficient officers for each mission, but all those that missed the obligatory program because of the ban had to be included. If they were the ones who voted it back in, then they shouldn’t be exempt.

They were working. They were evaluating.

Therefore, they were _serving_.

And as a result of this, Mr. Dhar insulted them without care by stating that they were the prime example of _‘Do as I say, not as I do’._

 

It was a cute attempt to right the wrong.

Except none of higher ranks would do it, and no one was forcing them.

Their hands weren’t being tied up either.

 

And Jim had no idea on how those hands could be restrained. If it was so easy, he would have permanently glued them all together by now.

 

Speaking of Mr. Dhar, the man showed up on the screen here and there. Besides all of that, Jim’s interest mainly rested on Gregory Dhar, and it grew with every picture flashed before his eyes. Gregory was a sharp looking man who always had some form of shining navy on his clothes. They were properly tailored suits that Jim would never have the care to shop for, let alone maintain.

That was more on Spock's alley.

Jim noticed the way Gregory had his hair slicked back … he briefly wondered if the man ever had a bad day. It wasn’t a secret that viewers fawned over his aesthetics, if the comments online were anything to go by.

 

Except that wasn’t even it.

 

Gregory always had his head up, looking past the cameras and paying the reporters no mind. Jim deduced that this was mainly because the man was in close relations to high profile people in Europe. That behavior was a result of a lifetime of conditioning. The younger Dhar had yet to publicly speak, but it was evident that he was here with his dad for the same reason.

 

On the other end of the media spectrum - the thing that disturbed Jim the most was that there were people online and on the holoscreen that questioned Jim’s absence and silence. Many expected it since he was a young Captain that wouldn’t dare say anything self-sabotaging. Some however, were irritated that he sold out. As expected, the harsher comments were anonymous. There were only a few that actually guessed it right and said that he was in his own SIM now, hence his absence.

 

Every jibe felt personal.

  

> _“I know someone who said that it was the worst experience of his life.”_
> 
> _“And who’s that?”_
> 
> _“You know I can’t say that on national television.”_
> 
> _“Why not?”_
> 
> _“That’s a rash question, and you know it.”_
> 
> _“That’s exactly what I’m saying. Complain all you want, but the SIM is staying, and I’m glad for it. It’s not like anyone is going to do anything about it. Why fight against something that’s there for the greater good?”_
> 
> _“You have to realize that your comments are insensitive to those that have saved our lives. They’re the reason you can be so ignorant today.”_
> 
> _“Well I don’t praise a fish for swimming.”_

This fool said _**‘for the greater good.’**_ Jim felt bile climb up his throat. Maybe this coffee was a bad idea. It wasn’t even real coffee – but the decaffeinated instant one that was all milk and sugar. It should’ve knocked him out, however the news was doing a phenomenal job of keeping him up.

 

“What the hell, Jim?!” McCoy marched to the screen and shut it off with a scowl.

 

“Put it back on.” He mumbled. “I want to know what the civilians think.”

 

“The news? Really Jim? Stop feedin’ your brain garbage. It’s a good thing I caught you before you came across Your Life Tonight re-runs.” McCoy wiped at his forehead, his aggravation increasing. “I’m gone for one second to take a piss and here you are, watching some stupid sheep, discussing things they’ll never understand.”

McCoy was staring down at him, but Jim found the top layer of his coffee more interesting. The steam hit his nose. He was just waiting for Bones to walk past him at this point.

 

When he realized that his friend wouldn’t budge - he blurted out the one question he thought repeatedly in the shower. He may as well get another opinion. “Bones?"

 

McCoy nudged his head.

 

"Did Spock and I ever seem like the type of duo that would put one another over the crew? Over the ship?”

 

McCoy’s pause wasn’t a comfortable one. “… Not over the crew, no.”

 

“Because I remember you specifically saying that Spock would leave me.” That was definitely an eye-opening moment. “And that was over Prime Directive. Everything's changed since then. What I know, and what I think I know is all meshed together."

 

McCoy’s eyebrows met as he tilted his head in question. “You have to realize Jim, in Round Four – “

 

“What about Round Four?” Jim interjected. “We were being tortured _together_. So here I am, actually wondering how things would've turned out if one of us were captured and the other was left behind? Would we have marched to war, Bones?”

Jim continued to scour through his thoughts. “What if we knew nothing of the weapons’ glitch? Would one of us have arrived at dawn with half the Warehouse?"

 

“That didn’t happen, so there’s no point in deliberating on that.”

 

“What if we didn’t have protection, and it was impossible to extract one of us? Because unlike Karim, they hated me, and they would have torn Spock limb from limb before sunrise. Bones … what kind of duo are we?”

 

“I see where this is going.” McCoy let out a gust of air. “You’re finding ways to blame yourself – “

 

“But that has to be why that contract was thrown in my face. Just because we won with getting Karim back, doesn’t mean that we would succeed in the real world. Every rescue mission has different variables, some more risky than others.” Jim interrupted again. “Perhaps I'm rash. Maybe I don't evaluate things properly. The Admirals sure aren't confident enough. I know we’re just another example of this Starfleet makeover, but maybe they had a decent reason."

 

“You're speaking nonsense." McCoy did another heavy sigh. "It wasn't like Salvatus took Karim and said everything would be fine. They threatened the whole base, and they sure had the means. Your plan resulted in no casualties on your end. That's a miracle, Jim."

 

It was a massacre that Spock had nightmares over.

What kind of _miracle_ was that?

 

"Don't doubt yourself like this. Don't question your gut, and your intelligence. If everything you said was true, then you wouldn't have a ship - you wouldn't be entrusted with hundreds of lives." McCoy said as if the whole thing was silly to even breathe out.

 

"Tell me … after everything you’ve seen – would Spock have followed logic and left me, preparing the base for attack on their own grounds? Or would he have abandoned logic and brought more people from home ... Warehouse 15 in the morning, and got them killed? Or would he have arrived earlier, risking his own life, too paranoid to believe that I would make it through the night?"

 

"What would you have done?"

 

“... It would make me desperate.” He concluded out loud.

 

McCoy didn’t look the least bit surprised. "You work better under pressure anyways. I've seen that enough to know."

 

Jim couldn't look at that expression any longer. Never would he have thought he could become so transparent. “I guess that desperation was what led me to tell Spock that we could be strictly Captain and First Officer.”

 

“I might have to agree with you there. Very desperate.” McCoy deadpanned.

 

“Thanks.” He jested, feeling the sinking weight on his left. McCoy was next to him, placing his cold palm on Jim’s knee.

 

“But that’s what love does.” McCoy added. “I’m going to take a wild guess here and say he didn’t accept.”

 

“No, he didn’t.” Jim sighed. “In fact, he said that there'd be no hope for us.”

 

“Sorry to tell ya, kid.” McCoy said. “I’m thinking of every scenario, and all of them result in Spock being right.”

 

“I don’t care if he’s right. We were supposed to _try_.”

 

McCoy did one shake of his head. “Not logical.”

 

Jim’s scoff escaped without warning. “You sound like Spock.”

 

“Spock doesn’t own the word ‘ _logical’_.” McCoy huffed with a tight smile. “This friendship you two have built wouldn’t have lasted a year. Someone would have left, and that someone would've been Spock. Best-case scenario, the next five years would have gone smoothly … you two would have been discovered when questioned, then you would’ve blamed him for ruining your career. And Jim, you’re not built for the mundane life.”

 

The fact that Bones echoed Spock was an eerie one.

 

“You guys need to stop talking for me.” He said with an annoyed tone.

 

“Well these are my thoughts, and these are Spock’s thoughts – a person who literally looked into your mind, I'll add. He’s not stirrin’ this batch up without the ingredients.”

 

Did Spock fear that Jim would _tolerate_ him if things went south?

 

“Just imagine, Jim. You would be single. There would be potential bed mates– and don’t tell me that you wouldn’t - This is five years we’re talkin' about.”

 

The idea of another touching his skin made it crawl in response. “I can’t begin to imagine that right now.”

 

“Well this is the real world. So _when_ you have sex with another person, how'd you think Spock would feel?" McCoy asked, “And don’t bother to tell me he wouldn’t find out. There are a shit load of ways it could come to his knowledge, and if all fails, he would smell it on ya.”

 

Jim was proud of himself for holding in his cringe. “Resorting to that would be because of him.” It was a bitter comment, and he knew it. “He has no right to feel anything.”

 

He took another sip of his drink when McCoy sprung up from his seat.

 

“But he will, Jim! Do you realize how wrong it is for me to remind you that the hobgoblin has emotions?!”

 

The irony wasn’t lost on Jim.

 

"He's probably grovelin' right now 'cause of what you said to him." McCoy continued, “He wouldn’t show it, and he sure as hell wouldn’t tell you his emotional troubles during the mission. But it would kill him, and it would be a slow death. So yes, your suggestion was desperate and unrealistic. He claimed you in front of everyone without a care in the world. He bonded with you - A once in a lifetime thing. And what, you think he’s going to reduce himself to some mistress or a simple comrade?”

 

The only response to that was a shot of tequila.

Instead, Jim settled for his cheap excuse for coffee and took another burning gulp.

**.**

**.**

**.**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be kind to me.
> 
> ~X


	40. POST SIM - PART TEN (3)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally got this whole chapter up.  
> 3/3  
> Next is Spock's POV. *cheers*  
> Song: Je t'Adore by Eurielle (I'm in my epic music feels)
> 
> ~X

** POST SIM - PART TEN (3) **

 

 

**Another day. Another message.**

**Uhura left to complete that list of hers. Pavel doesn’t know when he’ll return yet.**

**Wish I could tell you.**

**I also wish that the people outside could have more consideration when they talk about us.**

**We’re not gods.**

**We’re not celebrities.**

**We’re humans.**

**Humans that make mistakes.**

**Guess the maximum is looking more probable.**

**I know I added Pavel’s concerns with some humor, but he was serious. I am too.**

**How are you two faring?**

**No need to answer that.**

**Another day. Another message.**

**Hopefully this is the last.**

**\- HS**

**.**

**.**

**.**

 

Jim revived his PADD after a few more minutes. He briefly read some of the messages that were sent to him while he was in stasis by his crewmembers.

Many were simple. Others were more heartfelt.

Their main concerns resided in his health and in his relationship with Spock.

Their curiosity was evident for the latter.

 

_“It is a fact that our first conversation had much to be desired.”_

 

Jim ignored some things that could be dealt with at a later time, and he especially ignored the notification with Spock’s identification number on the surface. He knew exactly what that was, and he was definitely too sober to bother clicking it.

He continued to search through his filled device, and it was one message from Lemli that really ticked his nerves when he read the title.

He gave in and clicked it.

 

“I fucking knew it!”

He shouldn’t have touched his equipment until tomorrow.

“I’ve been telling you, and no one listened to me. You all thought I was paranoid!”

 

Spock never did …

 

Jim's outburst caught McCoy's attention.

 

“What’re you yappin’ about?” McCoy asked from the kitchen.

 

“I just got another FAIL report.”

 

McCoy paused for a moment. “No transfer?”

 

“A complete FAIL." He elaborated.

 

“Dammit. Who's it this time?”

 

Jim yelled out her name. “It’s Eckford!”

 

“As in Ensign Robin Eckford!?! I wasn’t assigned to her test ... Unless she’s part of the few that got started before you finished.” McCoy widened his eyes and practically snatched Jim’s PADD from behind. “Well call me dumbfounded. She got discharged.”

 

“Spock and I were going to get rid of her, but I guess it’s no longer necessary. The only reason we kept her was because of Lemli.” She never failed to worry Jim on away missions. Lemli made excuses for her incessantly.

Jim took it upon himself to specifically watch her train to confirm his speculations of Lemli's bias.

 

“Her SIM world was only eight days." McCoy read on. "The report says … Her rash actions were a result of consistently misjudging situations that should have required careful deliberation.”

 

McCoy didn’t have to sugarcoat it like that.

 

“She was trigger happy. I can’t have trigger happy people on the security team. My ship doesn’t run on _‘shoot first, ask questions later’,_ Bones.”

 

Screw it all.

He stole back his PADD and shut it off.

 

**.**

**.**

**.**

 

“Bones?”

 

“Yep?”

 

“Whatever happened to the command team of USS Xīwàng?”

 

McCoy’s response was most peculiar. He inched back with a gulp, and returned to the kitchen.

 

Jim turned back, his elbow on the top of the cushion. “You’re not ignoring me, are you?”

 

“I’m not.” McCoy simply said, while dialing on Jim’s replicator. “You’re just worryin' about things that don’t need worryin’ about. And you know I can’t tell you.”

 

Jim made a mental note to send Captain Gerald another message. “How am I going to just sit down after this? There are other people dealing with the aftermath as we speak.” A part of him wanted to yell. His throat just hurt too much.

 

The next Enterprise crewmember to take the SIM was in four days. So far, there were twenty-two compatible transfers pending acceptance to his ship.

 

“Feel however you want to feel, but you need to sit this down.” McCoy stated, his back to Jim while distracting himself by making a quick snack.

 

“Were Spock and I just special, or are all of them that mind fucking?” Jim jibed. “I can’t have a crew that’s mentally screwed over, Bones.”

 

“You’re always the face of things that need to be fixed. Just because you’re not crashing all the time, like you did in the SIM, doesn’t mean you’re not still healing.”

   
“Bones – “

 

“We’re adults.” McCoy turned around with a grimaced expression. “Let us handle our own shit for once. We’ll survive.”

 

_“You cannot keep saving us!”_

 

Jim didn’t miss how McCoy thrust himself into that category. “Bones.”

 

“I’m making a sandwich, Jim.” McCoy turned back around and continued to add stuff on the bread. “Maybe two slices of turkey – no more than that. A little ranch with a hint of lemon. Synthesized of course. I’ll add that we need to fill your fridge. We could order a few necessities, but I know you prefer to pick the foods out yourself.”

 

“Bones – “

 

“You’re going to eat these greens. I’m sure you’re used to those by now.” McCoy continued. “And I know what you’re going to ask, but forget it.”

 

It was a question he promised to never bring up again, and he no longer cared enough to keep it. “What happened to you?”

 

“You said you’d leave it alone. You and Spock took the biggest hit on the ship anyways.” McCoy ignored Jim’s question. “It’s not like the entire crew went through it.”

McCoy shoved it off because he knew damn well that Jim wouldn’t request the footage. Jim could do it, but the risk of a valuable friendship lost wasn’t worth it.

 

In fact there were still one hundred and ninety-three SIMs to be completed for his ship alone, before they debarked on their mission. He shuddered at the thought of them enduring such tribulation.

 

McCoy strolled to him and passed him a plate.

 

Jim held the bottom and brought it closer. His stomach rumbled just by smelling the sandwich in front of him.

He took a bite, unaware that McCoy was approaching the window. The lemon and ranch revived his taste buds. The lettuce was flavored just enough, and the turkey was …

The turkey was …

He automatically spit the sandwich in his palm, before standing up to throw it in the dispenser. He wanted to gag. He forgot that he hasn’t touched meat in over a year.

It tasted great until he realized exactly what he was eating. It was an immediate reaction.

 

“What the hell, Jim?” McCoy followed him to the kitchen. “I’m not trying to poison you here.”

 

Jim wiped his mouth. “It was the meat.”

 

McCoy’s eyes widened with confusion, soon registering the meaning behind Jim’s comment. “Oh. I take it you didn’t hear me.”

 

“Stupid. I know.” He grabbed a cup of cold water and walked back to the couch, placing the cup next to his mug. He put the blanket back over him to shield himself from the breeze that was coming in.

The wind that brushed his skin instantly made him feel exposed. He jumped up from the couch and ran towards the window, almost tripping on the floor twice on his face.

“For fuck’s sake, Bones!” He screamed as he shut the invitation to death.

 

“What now?”

 

“Do you not see what time it is? You can’t just open the freakin’ window!” Jim blurted out, wrapping his body tighter with his blanket. “You’re trying to get us … killed …”

 

McCoy didn’t move nor did he respond. Jim watched his friend’s normally tough expression change into one of raw misery.

 

Jim gulped as he darted his eyes away. “I think I’m going to go to sleep now.”

 

“Let me make you something else then.” McCoy cautiously approached him with two large strides. “You’re not well, Jim.”

 

“You think I don’t know that?!” He unexpectedly shouted at his caring friend. “God, what’s happening to me?” He rubbed his temples. “I’m scared of _rainbows_.”

 

“If it’s any credit … they were _killer_ rainbows.”

 

“Killer rainbows that aren’t here anymore.” Jim muttered as he lazily trod back onto the couch, sinking his weight into the cushion.

 

“Out of all the shit you’ve been through, when have you ever fully healed in one day?”

 

“Never.” He mumbled stubbornly.

 

“What makes you think it’ll be any different this time?”

 

“Because everything was composed of pixels.” Jim recently replied. ”I shouldn’t feel like this. Everyone else is walking with smiles on their faces.”

 

McCoy rubbed the back of his neck. “You need to be kinder to yourself.”

 

He should have been kinder to Spock.

It was a random and dumb thought, and Jim didn’t regret letting Spock be perfectly clear of where he stood however, it wasn’t necessary to say that he ‘ _hated_ ’ him.

 

“Bones, if you’re going to return Spock’s craft – please do it soon.”

 

McCoy crossed his arms. “You either want to get rid of me, or you want me to give Spock company ‘cause you think he’s scared too.”

 

“Just talk to him or something. But don’t bother him about this either. More confrontation would make it all worse,” He couldn’t continue with his internal debates. So he decided that he would indeed sleep. Spock probably desired to do the same thing. Maybe Bones’ company might achieve that.

“He probably taped his whole house.” The disturbing image of Spock curled up in the corner made Jim want to sprint out and face the night. “Or maybe I should go back …” It was a little whisper, one only meant for himself.

 

Too bad McCoy caught it. He moved in front of Jim and settled his knees on the floor. “You just closed a window. What makes you think you won’t have a panic attack outside?”

 

“I don’t care.”

 

“You have to care for your health.”

 

Spock would never admit it to it, but Jim was certain that he was frightened as well, at least on some level.

Although their bridge lacked the beat of life, it wasn't required for Jim to feel that in his cells.

 

McCoy’s shoulders dropped. “Spock’s not answering M’Benga’s calls, so I’ll just do a classic surprise home visit.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

“Thank me after he actually let’s me through the door.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PS - HS is Sulu  
> ~X


	41. POST SIM - PART ELEVEN (1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spock's POV!  
> This is the first part of this chapter.  
> I still have to edit the second and final part to POST SIM - PART ELEVEN.
> 
> Warning: Spock's sad inner rambling.  
> Song: Winterbreak by MUNA
> 
> ~X

** POST SIM - PART ELEVEN (1) **

 

  
 

Spock was in the safety of his home, and yet - the thought of going for a stroll became synonymous to ending his life… again. The weapons were gone. He had to acknowledge that a walk in the night would be just that. A walk. This was his world, and in his short time back, he came to despise it.

It sparked irrational thoughts and behavior.

 

_“… it made me hate you.”_

 

The beginnings of phobias were threatening to emerge.

 

He trod into his room and instead of properly sitting on the mattress before resting his head on the pillow, he let his body fall. All he could think about was how Jim currently saw this as a betrayal. Gradually, Jim would eventually see this for what it was.

Jim could begin the voyage without worry, and soon his Captain would forget the heartbreak, inevitably moving on as many humans do. It would take an undetermined amount of time – probably a long time, but he believed that Jim would understand the good he did for them.

He could tolerate Jim’s distress, because this would never be worse than the one he’d definitely receive if Jim were to ever be condemned to the life of a simple civilian. Jim’s ambition to reach the farthest star was too powerful.

Jim's current assumption was that Spock could not endure another challenge, when this was a challenge in itself. It was another sacrifice and this time, Spock would have to deal with the consequences. It was a complicated matter, since he gave in to the risk before by permanently linking himself to Jim.

 

It was selfish.

 

…and it was selfless.

 

He was giving and receiving, and it was a rarity he would never come across again.

The rejection he allowed to roll off his tongue, and the rejection he received was forming into a physical pain. His churning headache was proof enough. That particular human metaphor held truth.

In fact – many of them were very telling. Especially when it was also said that there was a thin line between love and hate, and one could not possibly live on one side without seducing the other.

It was because of him that Jim crossed that line. Everything they built together was gone, vanished, and ripped from his mind - Literally and figuratively. He was truly alone.

 

Is that not what he endeavored to achieve?

 

**.**

**.**

**.**

The reflection of his unscathed nude body stared back at him on his six foot mirror right outside of his room restroom. It was expected, but the disappointment still resonated within him when he noticed the reduction of muscle mass. His regimens in the SIM and in this world were nowhere near similar.

Granted, his excessive training was for his safety, except there was a hint of vanity that came along with it. Logical purpose - Illogical response.

Despite the better alterations in his current appearance, the disappearance of the deformed scar along his thigh provided diminutive comfort. He trailed along the invisible path, ignoring the pain he should not have anticipated.

He never bothered to touch it before – the only touch, besides Dr. Cardenas', he allowed near it was Jim’s, massaging whilst transferring a variety of memories and emotions. No matter the nature, he accepted them because it belonged to Jim.

  
All Jim.

 

He raked his hair with his fingers, lifting his bangs and turned his face side to side. If someone told him that he grew his hair out, he might have actually considered a chuckle. But he did it, and although the meaning behind it was for yet again his safety, the added vanity of it was unexpected as well. By human standards, he was still considered attractive with both, except none of them should have been about aesthetic.

One was for tradition.

The other was for added security.

 

He could pass as a human, but no one forced him to occasionally act like one in his own base, nor did he have to … well, the majority of the stuff he did, including the increased sentiment for his base members should not have been possible. Nonetheless, he accepted the change within him.

That kind of unity was foreign to him.

 

On the Enterprise, he has grown closer to many crewmembers. More so than he ever thought, however he did limit himself. They were his co-workers, and some he claimed to be friends.

 

Except the base became family. From his experiences and the moments of enjoyment he felt through the program, he might have begun to disregard some of his limitations and accepted more offers for recreational activities on the Enterprise. When one asked him to drop formality and call one by their name again, he would accept it as the extension of friendship it is. If he were invited to eat along them as they always did, he would oblige without his usual hesitance.

If he were to join on this mission, he knew it would happen again, and it would never stop. Defeat after defeat, every attempt would be met with equal enthusiasm. Just as before.

 

It forced Spock to question … was he already family?

 

In front of the entire senior crew, Jim declared that it was their duty to PASS so that the family would not break apart. Jim also mentioned that he would fight for each of them if they received a compatibility transfer. They all showed their affirmations, and each of them personally approached Spock and demanded that he PASS too, even though it was common knowledge that he would.

 

… Was that their way of saying that he was accepted with his limitations? Would his leaving hurt them?

 

It hurt Jim.

 

_“It doesn’t matter which person I am._

_Our worlds would shake in cataclysmic volume.”_

 

Spock dropped his hands and stared into his own eyes.

These were the tear ducts he used after he said he never would again. The tears spilled from them as he practically suffocated Jim in his embrace, seeking a fraction of equilibrium.

He stepped back, ripping his gaze away from the unknown man before him and walked inside his rectangular shower, shutting the opaque glass a little harder than necessary.

 

The sonic vibrations hit his skin, stunning him from his straight posture. Spock took in a deep breath and shut his eyes, shaking away the shock and continuing his cleansing. It was not long before he stepped out and searched for his robe.

 

One wrapped wool ribbon across his waist, and Spock headed to his bed and sat on the edge.

 

He felt … unclean.

Logically, he knew he was clean, but the feeling remained.

 

He put one leg over the other and crossed his arms, tightening the material over his chest.

 

“I am clean.” He said out loud. “I am here. I am real. I am safe.”

 

He repeated the mantra for thirty more times in the darkened space. It was on the thirty-one repetition that he stripped himself of his robe and marched back into the restroom.

 

“Enable water functions.”

 

_Temperature?_

 

“One hundred and twenty-five degrees Fahrenheit.” He replied with gritted teeth. He could have made it hotter, but this was enough to release the tension in his body.

The exhale that came with the first streams of water gliding down his skin was something he abhorred the first time he did it in the SIM. And now, this was exactly what he needed.

 

This was it.

He was conditioned.

 

“Increase pressure by fifteen percent.”

 

He lathered every inch of his body, then sat on the ground after. He crossed his legs and let it swallowed him whole.

 

Once he noticed the subtle wrinkles starting to form on the tips of his fingers, he shut everything off and rubbed himself with a towel in a non-orderly fashion. He made his way to the robe on his bed, but that was not without catching himself in the mirror.

He was damp and extremely flushed, the pine color presenting itself from his cheeks, neck, chest, his genitals and inner thighs.

 

He halted in rubbing his hair with the thick fabric and let it drop.

 

What was happening to him?

**.**

**.**

**.**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next one will be up tomorrow at the latest. 
> 
> ~X


	42. POST SIM - PART ELEVEN (2)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is 2/2.  
> Yay!
> 
> Sorry for the late update.  
> Also, thank you all for the support. You are amazing!
> 
> Warning - ...ummm? Angst?  
> Song: Drowning by Banks
> 
> ~X

  **POST SIM - PART ELEVEN (2) **

 

 

At 0931 Earth time - Spock was disturbed.

Instead of being disturbed of his slumber, he was disturbed of his thoughts. Spock was fooling himself to believe that he could actually sleep.

He rose up and kicked aside the blankets that were covering the space under his room door. He kept his home in complete darkness, but it was of little consequence since he could maneuver around easily.

He has briefly thought of tape, except he refused to dive so low.

_Doctor Leonard McCoy has arrived._

 

Now that he was out of his safe room, he stared at his main door as if the metal rectangle was his enemy. It was too late to open anything. Spock was just one word away of letting McCoy enter his home. He would have said it, but that would mean … being vulnerable to attack.

 

“You can take your time, Spock.”

 

The mumbled reassurance was all Spock needed to hear. “Enter.” He almost snarled.

 

The door slid open by command. McCoy walked into the darkness, unsurprised.

 

“That was faster than I thought.”

 

“Do not patronize me.” He said, wishing the door would close faster.

 

“Although you may fuel my asshole tendencies, I’m not here to be one today.” McCoy grumbled. “Shit Spock, I can’t see a thing in here.”

 

Spock turned the lights on by only 40%. Any higher and one could easily miss a slithering weapon glowing to match the illumination of his florescent lights.

 

A couple beeps penetrated his right ear, causing Spock to abruptly turn to its source. McCoy was scanning him with his medical tricorder.

 

“Doctor – “ If this was McCoy’s method of beginning a truce, then this was the worst way to begin. Then again ... their truce began during their secrecy from their Captain.

 

“You didn’t come back.” McCoy began. “Jim gets a checkup tomorrow, but I guess since you decided to leave indefinitely, a checkup became irrelevant.”

 

“Affirmative.”

 

“Wrong!” McCoy barked back. “Your health is never irrelevant you pesky hobgoblin.” He strolled to Spock’s kitchen and put down a bag and tossed a set of keys on the counter.

 

His keys.

 

“You’re welcome.” McCoy answered as if he had access to Spock’s internal query.

 

Spock looked up at him with squinted eyes, trying to not sway to the side from his growing fatigue. “Doctor, I am sure you are aware that I require sleep.”

 

“Clearly.” McCoy muttered as he stared at his tricorder before opening the bag.

 

“So I will not take lightly to insults.”

 

McCoy sighed before he looked back down on him. “You’re supposed to be the more responsible one, and your nutrition levels are shit, Spock. I obviously took great care of you, but you were supposed to eat right after. You know this.”

 

Spock indeed knew that. He would have retrieved more sustenance, but after hours of just sinking in his guilt, he realized that it was too dark outside. He loathed being on any form of public transportation, including a cab. The whole occurrence was incredibly human. Doing that earlier today reminded him of all that.

 

“You don’t have a replicator like a normal person, and since you decide to cook all your meals, you obviously threw everything away before arriving to your test. I would ask why you didn’t go out and buy some things but …” McCoy sucked in his lips and did a shrug. “… anyways, I think I should get you and Jim a home nurse, 'cause I didn’t live in that room for weeks, just to have you all depleted of everything necessary. We worked too hard for you guys to be this irresponsible.”

 

Spock kept his mouth closed, ultimately deciding that offering a rebuttal of any kind would instigate an argument. One was more than enough for the day.

More than enough for a lifetime.

 

McCoy walked out of the kitchen and placed a pre-prepared meal on the table, along with a jug of blue liquid that could be confused for Andorian ale.

 

Spock pulled back a chair and hesitantly sat down. He stared at the strange beverage long enough for McCoy to notice.

 

“I debated if I should get you a hyposhot, but I decided to go with the customized mineral water. This way, you’ll regain your natural amount while staying hydrated.” He informed. “Here I have a simple quick meal, so eat up.”

 

Spock’s almost didn’t stop himself from licking his lips. Just gazing at the food resurrected his hunger. “I will eat.”

 

“Good, ‘cause you didn’t have a choice there.” McCoy sat back in his seat with arms crossed.

 

Spock noticed how McCoy was adamant to remain there. “You are going to observe me?”

 

“Yep.” McCoy answered with a pop to his ‘p’.

 

His shoulders dropped before placing his fork in the soba noodles filled with peas, peppers and shredded carrots. This would only be a quick meal for someone who was familiar with cooking.

 

“This is … Thank – “

 

“No need to thank me.” McCoy waved a hand dismissively.

 

Spock was halfway through his third bite when McCoy mentioned Jim. He knew it was coming, but McCoy’s approach to the topic was a peculiar one.

 

“I made Jim a sandwich.” McCoy snorted as if there was an underlying attempt at humor in there. “It was a turkey sandwich.”

 

Spock quirked a brow, unaware of where McCoy was steering this conversation.

 

“Your point?”

 

“He spit it out.”

 

“And why would he do that?” Spock blurted out. A scary thought occurred soon after. “Is he ill?”

 

“He’s still healing obviously, but no more than he should. He’s okay for now.” McCoy shook his head. “There was turkey in the sandwich. The man hasn’t touched meat in so long. Apparently, the idea of it makes him sick. A few hours after the SIM, and I forgot that detail. I’m a great friend, right?”

 

Spock distracted himself by taking gulps of the water that had a raspberry aftertaste to it.

If anything were to return to normal after the SIM, it should have been Jim's palate for meat.

Cheeseburgers specifically.

 

Perhaps that was a credulous aspiration.

 

McCoy continued, “He told me to not distress you about your decision.”

 

“If there is any decision to discuss, then it is the one we have committed with great error.”

 

Spock and the ones his Captain appointed to SIM summary duty betrayed the trust that was instilled in them. With Spock’s fifth SIM report, he approached McCoy with questions regarding its harshness since it was said that alterations to the program were made.

When both of them verbalized their thoughts to the set of Admirals that were currently deliberating the grades, they were informed that it was indeed altered as promised. Spock just knew that there could have been more alterations, and he soon discovered that the refusal to do more was a deliberate decision.

 

“Listen here, we all made that decision to save him the unnecessary stress.” McCoy incredulously looked at him. “How was he supposed to get better if he drowned himself in this mess, and sat down every damn day to watch shit he couldn't change?"

 

Spock crunched on his food a little too hard.

 

"And then actually expect him to PASS? We’re freakin’ lucky the other Captains decided against it too. We had a opportunity and we took it.”

 

It was a decision Jim came to by his own volition, but they supported it. It was manipulation.

 

“If he were aware of the program’s extensive mental strain, then he could have prepared more efficiently.” He could have meditated with Jim. It was a risk in itself because the possibility of exposing himself to Jim remained; however it was a risk he should have gladly taken. His priorities regretfully shifted. “He entered without the idea of – “

 

“The ones that failed deserved it. We both know that.” McCoy interrupted him. “He didn’t need to know every detail of what the ones that passed went through. A PASS is a damn PASS. Look at me. I’m smiling. You’ll be better … eventually, then we’re off this darn planet.”

 

But Spock would not be.

 

“I doubt he will refrain from being witness to the SIMs after what we have just encountered.”

 

“It won’t come to that.” McCoy said with a hint of misplaced hope. “He’s too compromised to do it. If only you knew what he did tonight.”

 

“I do not wish to discuss the matter at this time, McCoy.” The guilt that stabbed at him was beginning to carve patterns for fun, never ceasing.

 

McCoy sighed. “I won’t. I’ll just let you know that he flew across the house to close a goddamn window, scared that he would be burnt to ashes.”

 

Spock dropped his fork. That was exactly what he did not want to hear. It would be ignorant to assume that he was the only one worried about the lights that were no longer present. He should have known, and instead it was him that pushed Jim away.

 

McCoy narrowed his eyes at him, knowing very well of what he just did.

 

“Doctor, I – “

 

“I saw everything, and I already did two mistakes.” McCoy leaned closer to him by placing an elbow on the table. “Mistakes I’m sure you wouldn’t have made. I'm lucky to have even had some sleeping pills in my possession, 'cause I was this close to giving him a hyposhot."

 

“I am sure you rectified them and will be more conscious of your actions in the future.”

 

“You’re aware of his vulnerabilities. “ McCoy’s scanning glare was boring into him. “ _All_ of them Spock.”

 

“As your title of _‘best friend’_ , that would mean you are aware of them as well.” Spock retorted. “I am confident that you will aid him through his tribulations and reintegration into the real world.”

 

“Clearly you have that title too, since he told you about shit he never bothered to tell me.” McCoy resumed his regal pose. “You know, seeing as you had the added title of _‘husband’_ and all.”

 

Spock stared at him, wondering if McCoy was talking about what he thought he was talking about. His thoughts were fragmented. “Surely you had knowledge of his experience on Tarsus IV.”

 

When Jim stated that he did not confide in another, he assumed it to only be true in the SIM reality because McCoy was not in the SIM. McCoy was not in Jim’s memory. McCoy did not exist.

 

A bitter scraped laugh escaped from McCoy.

Apparently Spock had been incorrect.

 

“Do you know how it feels to hear about something that tragic from a screen, Spock? Jim had to be some untouchable projection for me to know that. I couldn’t hug him, just look at the unresponsive body next to me.” McCoy saddened expression was worsened when he did a tight smile – attempting to conceal the emotion. “And he trusted you with it. Not even you, _you_ , but the Chief he came to know in that short time.”

 

So Spock and McCoy were the only ones … “Who else is aware of this?”

 

“M’Benga.” McCoy answered. “We cleared the room a few times.”

 

Spock found nothing related to Tarsus IV’s massacre in Jim’s record. Although the Miracle Nine were anonymous, their identities had to be on some record. A record Spock did not obtain the clearance for.

The clearance a few Admirals must have had. Spock knew they were aware of everything.

After contemplating for a moment, Spock pushed his chair back and stood up to retrieve his PADD from his room. He retrieved it from his nightstand and approached McCoy with it.

He ignored McCoy’s curious glance and pulled up a picture that he had only looked at once. Many have seen it for it was public record. It was a quick search.

Satisfied with the zoom percentage, he slid it across the table, and then took another bite of his meal. He was determined to finish as much as he could before McCoy's inevitable queries came full throttle.

 

McCoy squinted his eyes at the screen before pulling it closer to his person. Another thirty-eight seconds, and McCoy pointed to a portion of the picture. “Is this who I think this is?”

 

It was indeed the younger human from Spock's dreams and from the memories Jim gifted to him. With a small nod, Spock could pinpoint the exact time McCoy held in his urge to vomit.

 

He pushed the bottle in McCoy's direction. McCoy directed the bottle above his head, and squirted the liquid down his throat, quickly wiping his mouth soon after with the back of his palm.

 

“I’ve seen this picture. It’s a shitty one - I’ll give you that. But now that I know what I’m looking for, it’s kind of hard to miss. That’s Jim’s eyes, and his messy hair.” McCoy rubbed his eyes with his thumb and index finger. “He doesn’t even notice that this picture’s being taken. He’s too into his own world here. Everyone is… He’s so freakin’ tiny, and he’s clinging onto this girl for dear life even though he's home."

 

Spock noticed how McCoy avoided the obvious. Jim was indeed ‘tiny’, however he was also dirty, catatonic and those capturing eyes were void of childlike happiness. Spock understood that the way he analyzed the picture was not in a literal sense, but he was conflicted of how to describe the troubling appearance.

 

McCoy pointed to the female next to Jim. “Do you know that this girl could be Vice President –“

 

“Aretha Jin. Many of her previous campaign inquiries addressed it, however she has not confirmed nor denied that she was a part of the Miracle Nine.”

 

“But that birthmark and those green eyes. Her nose is practically the same. Hair can always be changed, but –“

 

“We cannot be certain.”

 

“Spock?”

 

Spock glanced up.

 

“Jim doesn’t know, does he? It’s not like he kept in contact with these people, right?"

 

“I cannot deduce for I have not seen it in Jim nor have I asked him.” It was of little interest to him at the time. Why ask about people that were probably deceased?

 

“How did it feel? Jim _literally_ opened his mind for you like that.” McCoy added without that usual hint of derision. “The meditations were personal, so don’t worry about those. We couldn’t see it. Obviously there was one nightmare that caused you two to basically jump off the bed simultaneously, but that’s pretty much it. So how does it all feel? You know things no other being will ever know. Not even me, Spock.”

 

It was odd. McCoy’s inquiries appeared genuine, with the subtle layer of despondency. It was understandable, for McCoy gained critical information in the most unsatisfactory manner.

 

“I regret to inform you that I am unable to form the proper words.” Spock confessed.

 

McCoy did not push … for once. “Listen … I understand why you’re doing what you’re doing. I’ll only say this once, but I get your logic, I really do.”

 

Spock briefly questioned if McCoy was ill. He took another bite to give his body the much-needed sustenance, so that his sight could improve.

 

No. McCoy seemed healthy - In need of proper grooming, but still healthy.

 

“You agree with me?”

 

“I can’t think of a solution for you two.” McCoy scoffed, his lips primed. “This is one big fucking mess.”

 

He concurred. “It is.”

 

“It's just … you – you guys _married_ each other.”

 

“A marriage that is not recognized under the law.”

 

“But the bond has to be recognized, correct?”

 

“Negative.” He grew up with perpetual tales of the consequences of a lost bond, and this was nothing like it. “It will not be recognized.”

 

He was numb.

Devastated, yes.

However, it was on a human level.

His mind was reversed to the way it was prior to entering the program.

 

“Why?”

 

“Because I do not feel it.” Spock answered, holding in his urge to bite his cheeks. Instead, he took hold of his bottle.

 

“Ah, hell.” McCoy gawked at him. “M’Benga said that ripped bonds were dangerous. You said so yourself.”

 

“They are.” Spock answered. “I see where this is heading, McCoy. I was not ripped from a bond. The bond never took place. I am unable to sense it, and I am certain that a healer would not be able to either. Do not worry about Jim or I. He is safe.”

 

“So you guys are fine?” McCoy asked, skeptical of Spock’s deduction. “Jim doesn’t seem fine in my eyes. You don’t look fine to me, Spock.”

 

“I said we were safe. I never claimed that we were fine.”

 

**.**

**.**

**.**

The night was still young and as Sulu said – Jim could contact him or anyone right now. It didn’t take a genius to know that him and Spock were back.

But would there be a point in such a call? Tomorrow seemed more appropriate. He could barely hold a sane conversation with McCoy, let alone consider another one to another person. If anything, it would somewhat be troubling and cause unnecessary disruption within the crew.

 

He had to sleep and organize his thoughts.

He was still Captain.

 

Jim tossed off his shirt, thinking that the action was a little too quick. However, there were no wounds to be wary of as he came to realize when he was in the shower.

He settled onto his bed after telling the computer to shut off every single light in his home. With the blanket wrapped over his body, Jim placed both hands under the pillow and shut his eyes.

This was not how he envisioned his first night back - Not at all.

He was drowsy, and he could tell that sleep was coming soon – except, something was preventing his slumber. After finally realizing what that was, he sighed in defeat.

 

“Increase temperature by six degrees.”

 

_Temperature settings altered._

_It is currently eighty-two degrees Fahrenheit._

 

It should have freakin’ worked.

Except the added heat over his body did little to settle his nerves. The sleeping pills he took were fighting with his active mind. He knew it would kick in eventually ...

When he started to shift into fetal position, he jerked off his bed, cursing at the world. He should have figured it out earlier.

 

A couple strides forward, and Jim opened up his cupboard, taking out another thick wool blanket.

It was a poor substitute, but it never failed him out before.

 

“Great.”

 

He fluffed it over the bed, perfectly placing it above the other.

Once he settled under, sleep sounded more like a realistic goal.

 

**.**

**.**

**.**

 

**My log says that all the videos I sent weren’t watched.**

**I know you’re awake by now.**

**It’s the maximum.**

**Don’t make me catch the first flight there.**

**\- NU**

 

After some further discussion with McCoy, Spock entered his room and buried himself in his sheets. He desired to meditate, knowing full well that he could now without Jim’s mandatory aid.

He endeavored to reach deeper parts of his mind. His muscles relaxed the moment he was met with success.

McCoy often used the expression _‘Too good to be true.’_

This was one of those, because when he soon discovered that he could not fulfill his meditation to the depth he originally did. The access was a temporary one. His mind was stuck, yearning for aid.

As Jim would say, _‘It was spoiled’_

It was used to Jim’s connection, which was a conclusion Spock drew himself. It was clueless as to how it became this way. The barrier was not a literal one, but a symbol of his subconscious' unwillingness to tread further.

He had to retrain himself.

It was only logical that this setback was because of Jim.

Every part of Spock missed him.

**.**

**.**

**.**

Spock exited his room when he woke up to boil some water, which would normally be done before he started his cleaning regimen. Two steps out his door, and he became witness to a snoring McCoy on one of his couches.

 

His couches were nothing like Jim's. They were shorter and sturdier. McCoy should have known this, because this was not his first occasion here. It was impossible for this to be near comfortable. And yet ... McCoy not only considered, but did it.

It was then that Spock wished he obtained a guest room like Jim.

 

Last night, before he made his way to his room as a result of his pestering fatigue, he told McCoy to take his time. The doctor already knew of his code, despite not having automatic access.

 

McCoy never left.

 

As if noticing his presence, McCoy slowly opened his eyes before rubbing them with a groan.

 

“G’mornin’.” He grumbled with an extended drawl.

 

Spock just blinked at his spot. “You stayed.”

 

“Yeah…” McCoy sat up with a sigh, resting his elbows on his knees. “You and I have plans today.

 

Both his brows flew up. “Plans?”

 

“Full physical, … then we’re going to go shopping to … fill that fridge of yours.” He said in between yawns.

 

“Those are all tasks I can accomplish myself. Especially now that you have returned my hovercraft.” Spock informed. “I do not favor cabs, so I will escort you home.”

 

“I don’t trust you to drive, and you’ll be lucky to find my home. I forgot my own address.” McCoy answered with a sniff. “I don’t trust Jim either. He’s bedridden like all SIM participants. Plus, you and I have our scheduled SIM meeting to attend to today.”

 

It was too early for this. He required isolation for his body to adjust to this old setting of his life. The fact that he thought it was too early for anything, explicitly showed why he had a long way to go. “The scheduled meeting is no longer taking place.”

 

“Of course it is.”

 

What part of _‘I have resigned from Starfleet’_ did the doctor not comprehend? “The purpose of the meeting is for our SIMULATION summary, which is now redundant considering that the officers were Jim and I.”

 

“So?”

 

Did McCoy’s slumber impair his mind? It was clear that McCoy required more sleep.

 

“We were _there_.” Spock clarified.

 

“It still needs to be discussed."

 

Jim and him discussed it already – If discussions meant screams, and declarations of love and hate.

 

“Those are only regarding FAILs.” Spock corrected.

 

“Until your resignation goes through, which is a minimum of two weeks, and we both know Jim didn’t start, you’re a registered FAIL with pending transfer, Spock.”

 

Spock felt his heart skip a beat.

McCoy was correct and his logic inarguable.

 

“Oh, you didn’t know? Shame.” McCoy’s smile knew it trapped Spock. “Let’s not waste daylight.”

 

The dread filled him up. The idea of being in the same room with Jim was impossible to create in his head. Not the way they were now.

 

“I will partake in this exam.” Spock gulped.

 

McCoy clapped his hands together. “Great!”

 

“I will accept your aid for transportation, and your attendance for the restocking of my kitchen.”

 

McCoy’s smile faltered. “Okay …”

 

“However, I cannot – “

 

McCoy stopped him right there. “Spock.”

 

“And I will not subject Jim to anymore distress – “

 

“You’re not scared of him, are you?”

 

Indeed, he was. He feared the hold Jim had on his psyche. He feared Jim’s stabbing words and judging stare. He feared Jim’s soaring sadness and disappointment.

He feared his own love and how it mutated into this weapon that wounded Jim.

 

McCoy continued, “I mean, you guys still have to behave as adults. He told me what he said, and it wasn’t right and it ain’t true. There has to be a concrete plan for the future, and hidin’ from the other won’t solve a thing. You're both hurting."

 

“Jim needs to heal. He needs time.”

 

“You mean he doesn’t need _you_.”

 

When did McCoy start to look through him?

 

Better yet … when did he allow it?

 

“Affirmative.”

 

**Spock?**

**I’ve been hearing some things, and I’m really troubled right now.**

**Call me.**

**I’m just going to assume the worst if you don’t.**

**\- NU**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NU is Uhura.


	43. POST SIM – PART TWELVE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I’m updating this after watching ‘Beyond’, and all I have to say is ‘holy shit’. To my awesome reader ‘OldLace’ – best believe I had some energy drinks in Kirk’s honor.  
> Now I’m itching to write Jaylah – Her presence was everything! I could say more, but you guys are here for the other update :P 
> 
> Song: Big Sky by John O`Callaghan ft. Audrey Gallagher 
> 
> Warning: Sad Kirk.
> 
> I’ll have another update really, really soon!
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> ~X
> 
> PS – I’ve noticed an inexcusable amount of mistakes in the last update a couple of hours after I posted it. I know it can become a distraction. I apologize. I don’t have a beta, and I sometimes tend to post too soon. I’ll endeavor to never let that happen again.
> 
>  
> 
> PSS – I turn 22 tomorrow!!! *Throws confetti*

 

** POST SIM – PART TWELVE **

 

 

 

 

> _Captain Kirk,_
> 
> _It is most unfortunate that you and Commander Spock were subjected to the maximum. I have to admit, I am concerned as to how long your SIM world was. Was it exactly twenty-eight days or four months?_
> 
> _Six months?_
> 
> _A year?_
> 
> _More?_
> 
> _You don’t have to answer now._
> 
> _I’m going to be blunt here._
> 
> _There is nowhere for us to meet besides my home. One, our topic of conversation is sensitive. Two, you attract too much attention, and I can bet a kidney that you’ve binged the news. Anyone with a uniform is asking to be interviewed really. Especially you. Welcome back to reality._
> 
> _The public eye has become immensely toxic. My goal is to stay gone until I finalize my crew register. I just obtained another set, and I know their PASS should give me automatic confidence, however I will still endeavor to vet them._
> 
> _I acknowledge that the transfer of Commander Fey, my First Officer, should be enough to keep me busy, but I beg to differ._
> 
> _Remember to eat food. Although I’m certain you were already informed of this, I mention this out of my own concern._
> 
> _Captain Collin Gerald of USS Xīwàng_

 

**.**

**.**

**.**

 

Jim didn’t know of what to properly say to someone that witnessed him be a bit loony, risqué to the bone, lonely beyond measure to the point he had to shamefully sell out to extremist sadists, stupidly brave in a manner that questioned his sanity, occasionally rendered weaker than a toddler, and licentiously thirsting for a comfortable touch.

 

Did one say, ‘Hey. How are you?’

 

‘Salutations?’

 

‘Everything’s crack-a-lackin’?’

 

‘Greetings this sunny morn?’

 

‘Waddup?’

 

Honestly, what did one say?

 

“Say ‘aaah’.” M’Benga ordered, unknowingly answering Jim’s internal inquiries.

 

Apparently, ‘aaah’ was the proper way to begin.

 

Jim uttered his first syllable when he opened his mouth, revealing his oral cavity to the doctor he hasn’t seen in a month. The very face that watched him obliviously shut his eyes to begin his envenomed mutated blast to the past.

 

“You could just use that beeping compartment you all love so much.” Jim shifted on his biobed after shutting his lips. He abhorred the cold waves that brushed his skin because they caused a brief chill.

 

M’Benga instantly replied, “I could, except I make sure to have all my POST – SIM evals have a healthy mixture. You would know if you returned to us like you should have.”

 

“Something came up.” Jim said, instead of saying ‘My husband ran away.’

 

“Right. I’ll also remind you that I shouldn’t be doing this.” M’Benga reprimanded.

 

“You can.” M’Benga was the head of Jim’s assigned Med SIM team after all.

 

M’Benga’s scoff was light. “I’ll still have to deliver them to McCoy. He has final say in relation to anything that has to do with you and your file.”

 

“I know.”

 

“So you’re going to ignore that this is morally incorrect?” M’Benga asked, probably a little irked by Jim’s passive aggressive attitude. “I doubt he’s aware of where you are right now.”

 

Luckily this wasn’t a ship then. “For now, I’ll ignore what I have to.” Jim’s shoulders squared in response. “There’s a lot of stuff to do today.”

 

He made a head start after the worst sleep in his recent years. Knowing that there was more to do today, he decided to get this done as soon as possible. He was surprised that he walked back into this building after all that has taken place here.

 

As he marched through the ground floor, the stares directed his way were shoved off on the surface, when in reality, they all churned his insides. Did they expect some big speech? Did they anticipate a part two of his outcries from yesterday?

 

“But your appointment is at 1035. McCoy isn’t going to be pleased, and to be honest, more stress is the last thing any of us need right now.” M’Benga lifted a brow and crossed his arms. “Especially him.” He added with a sigh.

 

Right when Jim parted his lips for a rebuttal, M’Benga interjected.

 

“Listen, I understand that you’re here to avoid the elephant in the room, but you men would have been in separate spaces.”

 

The thought still brought upon shivers. Being under the same roof was an image he wasn’t yet prepared for.

 

“I have crewmembers that are wondering if I’m still alive. I have new officers replacing others, and I need to vet them. I have to check the progress of my – “

 

“Vet?!” The word was spat out with coatings of venom. “Even after a PASS? After all they’ve gone through?”

 

M’Benga should recognize that Jim’s intentions were for the better. “You’ve seen enough SIMs to know that a PASS doesn’t mean we’re saints. We both know I’m not. It doesn't hurt to grasp the bigger picture."

 

“Captain – “

 

“Please. I ask that you fill my report, so that I can move on with my life.”

 

The desperation in his tone must have registered, for M’Benga nudged his head up and stepped back, picking up his PADD.

 

“Fine.”

 

“Good.” Jim gulped; slightly surprised he didn’t have to argue about this.

 

M’Benga sat himself on a stool, a rolled closer to Jim. “But your questionnaire has been drastically altered, and there’s more scanning required. It’s … extensive.”

 

Jim wasn’t thrown off by the sudden change. “This is because of what Spock and I did, isn’t it? Our bond.”

 

“Exactly.”

 

“There’s nothing there.” Jim repeated like the broken record he was. If there were anything that warranted worry, Spock would have warned him. If anything, Spock confirmed his beliefs by his silence. “I’m operating as I did – “

 

“Lies.”

 

The cut in caused a twitch. “Look, I feel like shit, but it’s mostly emotional. It’s temporary. Any physical issues are because I’m still healing.”

 

“Differentiating your issues will be the easy task, Mr. Kirk. You needn’t worry about that. With our records, it’s as simple as a cross-referencing. All I require is for you to answer truthfully. Leave the rest to me.”

 

“Okay.” Jim easily noticed how M’Benga squinted his eyes as he looked over him. It was evident that M’Benga wished to say something else.

 

Another elephant stomped into the room when M’Benga tightened his lips, a clear gesture when one wanted to refrain from saying more.

 

The floor shook with every step from the enormous mammal. If Jim had more energy, he might have pointed it out.

 

“Okay.” M’Benga repeated, ready to begin.

 

**.**

**.**

**.**

 

 

“Captain.” Scott and Sulu said in unison on the screen of Jim’s home terminal.

 

He remained still in his seat and gave them the best smile he could muster, while dimming down the illumination penetrating his sensitive eyes. Hopefully they wouldn’t be able to discern that he felt like complete shit.

 

“Afternoon, gentlemen.” He greeted them, delighted that they could both get the time to find privacy and pick up the call.

 

“Welcome back to Earth.” Scott greeted with a smile. “That’s if you had your SIM on a ship or some other planet.” He instantly corrected.

 

“Was yours not on Earth?” Jim questioned with a faltered smile, his present worry growing exponentially.

 

Sulu looked down on his lap, typing away the moment Scott gulped. Sulu witnessed Scott’s SIM, and the silent mercy resonated between both of them.

The body language screamed ‘Let’s change the topic.’

 

“Well, I didn’t know where I was. It wasn’t Earth, I’ll tell you that.” Scott attempted to laugh off.

 

“I see…” Jim then turned to the right half of the screen. “Anything interesting you’d like to share, Mr. Sulu?”

 

“I was preparing my notes for the next appointment, Captain.” Sulu showed his text filled PADD with a small satisfied grin. “We’re surprised you’re calling so soon though. I was told that those whom received the maximum would be on bed rest. I hope my messages didn’t give off a sense of urgency.”

 

Scott nodded, indicating that he indeed felt the same. “You just finished your SIM.” He said. “And it’s been going around that you two were kidnapped.” He added as a joke with his usual smirk.

 

One would assume that these two couldn’t whisper even the littlest of lies.

 

“Funny. I thought you guys would’ve bombarded me with questions, especially the one that asks for my grade.” Jim attempted to jest along with them.

 

Both of them went blank.

 

“We just assumed that you got the PASS…” Scott carefully stated, his concern becoming evident. “Captain …?”

 

Sulu swallowed, remaining quiet.

 

“I did.” Jim said to put them out of their paranoia. “I actually have a few questions of my own, regarding the program. First, I know you two have seen enough SIMs for a lifetime – “

 

Scott raised both brows in a ‘ _you have no idea’_ motion.

 

“And yet… not one of you informed me of its complications.”

 

Sulu squinted his eyes. “Complications, sir?”

 

“Complications. Immoral - unethical aspects inside the SIM. Anything that would grant me a simple warning. Not for me, but for the crew.” He clarified. “The alterations that needed to be done to allow its revival weren’t enough.”

 

“They were never meant to be easy …”

 

“Mr. Scott - “ Jim refrained from saying ‘Scotty’ so that the seriousness of the topic wasn’t cast to the side. “I know that. I’m concerned because not a single crewmember confided in me of their ordeal.” He continued. “Everyone tells me they’re fine. Turns out that was never the case.”

 

Sulu looked away just as soon as Scott did.

 

Jim took in their tight expressions. “I need the truth.”

 

“You could have the SIMs delivered to you.” Scott hesitantly suggested.

 

“I’ve already declared my removal of attendance. Hence why you guys do the summaries.” He inched forward, staring at the two as if they were literally in the room with him. “Someone needs to speak up. Now.”

 

“Sir …” Sulu hesitated, biting his cheek. “Eighty-six percent of the crewmembers that have partaken in the test have received a PASS.”

 

Jim twitched. He already knew that from the updates he read earlier. “I know the facts regarding our ship. Not my question.”

 

“Then do you really require more information?” Sulu continued, shaking his head.

 

Scott cleared his throat, growing more and more uncomfortable. “Captain, the SIMs aren’t fun. You see… we feel pain, we're surrounded by SIM add-ons, and we're stuck in situations that would result in death if we don’t find a way out.”

 

“Did you two die?”

 

Scott shut his mouth, sucking in his lips.

 

“Mr. Sulu.” Jim turned his attention to the helmsman that looked to the side of the screen as if there was something growing behind Jim’s back.

 

“I did.” Sulu admitted. “I was foolish and got myself into something where the chances of rescue were unlikely.”

 

Jim gazed at him with a deep frown. “Elaborate …”

 

“As you know, I received my PASS, but I think I could have done better.” Sulu cleared his throat. “I was a pilot for a commercial flight. I wasn’t in Starfleet and have never been to space. I was a working private civilian. And like any private civilian, I’ve just always assumed that all the crazy took place above our atmosphere.”

 

Scott replied, “It wasn’t your fault.”

 

These feelings residing inside Jim’s guts were illogical. It wasn’t as if Sulu personally confided in Scott and not Jim. The engineer viewed it with Sulu’s permission and by Jim’s order. However, even if Sulu and Scott bonded over this, this wasn’t about him.

 

This was about Sulu.

 

“I know that now, except I think back to it at times. I could've been more efficient. I didn't have the mentality of an officer..." Sulu said, quickly wiping his forehead. “I don’t know how or why, but there was dual engine loss during my last flight of the month. By some miracle, I managed to land us close enough to one of the coasts of the Republic of Kiribati. Twenty-three people didn’t make it. The remaining forty - eight of us got to shore … that should have been the end of it.”

 

Jim gulped in his seat, listening closely.

 

“Unfortunately - it was a different world, Captain.” Sulu blew out a gust of air. “You see, the passengers and I were stuck on an island that was being used for experiments. It was an isolated project and most definitely illegal. There were pods filled with … humanoid victims.”

 

“Are you speaking of biological mutations or unidentified aliens?” Jim questioned with furrowed brows.

 

“I think they used to be human…” Sulu eerily thought out loud. “At first we thought the building was an embassy, then after a supposedly thorough search, we concluded that it was a simple lab. Regardless, we assumed the employees we found would call for help … or something so that we could leave. Just go home. So we waited when we should have run … why didn’t we run?”

 

The regret plastered on Sulu’s face made Jim want to squash it. “They gave you all food, I’m assuming?” He pointed out. Sulu nodded in confirmation. “Then they gave you beds as well. Your first objective was to seek shelter and sustenance. You took what you could have.”

 

Sulu gulped, “Still. I should have found out sooner.”

 

“They gave you no reason to doubt their words.” Scott raised his voice. “They were programmed this way!”

 

“Now that I’m back, I think they were the ones whom brought us down. They wanted us there all along and help was never coming. Those people … they lied.” Sulu opined. “But Captain, you have to know that even though I died, I’m content with the way I went out.”

 

“Aye.” Scott blurted out. “He may not have survived, but he wasn’t killed. He wasn’t part of the five percent either.”

 

As Captain, Jim wondered if others would perceive him as weaker if they discovered that he was indeed part of the five percent.

 

“And how exactly – “ He coughed for a second, patting his chest. ”You went down … how?”

 

Sulu took a moment to breathe. When he opened his mouth, nothing was coming out.

 

Scott was the one who answered for him. “Sulu escaped the island with the two last remaining add-ons. He saved them.” The engineer declared in a proud manner.

 

The way Sulu cringed was evidence enough that he detested the term. “A cruise ship came along when we were floating at open sea … I don’t even remember how long.”

 

“But you said you died.” Jim reiterated, hoping for more of a clarification.

 

“Dehydration, malnutrition.” Sulu sighed. “They say to never drink salt water … it’s harder when it’s staring at you in the face.“

 

“So then how do you know what happened?” For all Sulu knew, the add-ons could have died after.

 

“It’s not something you want to hear …”

 

Before Jim could shout out that no one should speak nor think for him, Scott answered anyways.

 

“He asked McCoy when he woke up.”

 

“It was just out of curiosity.” Sulu quickly added. “I was in the real world after all.” He lied through his teeth.

 

It wasn’t curiosity. It was _worry_. Sulu cared for and agonized over the fate of these people. He wanted to know that his efforts weren’t in vain. “It’s in the past now … I mean I saw multiple SIMs that weren’t near as complicated.”

 

That was not in the least bit comforting. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

 

“We had other matters to worry about.”

 

“My health – “

 

“Yes, and as important as that is, no matter how much you try to deny it, that’s only one aspect of it. I’m not going to let you believe I’m fragile in any way, especially since you occasionally give me the conn, Captain.” Sulu declared, “Many were passing, and I want to remain with my crew. I want this mission. You’d lose your confidence in me.”

 

“Do you have any idea of what year it is? Did you think I would risk your position, and go out of my way to remove you?” It hurt to hear Sulu think of him in that manner. That doubt should have never had the opportunity to infest his friends. It grew and created nests under his nose. “I wouldn’t have done that to you.”

 

“It was a risk …”

 

“There is no risk with me!”

 

Scott and Sulu’s eyes widened with that.

 

Jim immediately shut his eyes for a moment to calm himself down. “Sulu, who am I exactly?”

 

The helmsman didn’t understand the nature of the question. “Sorry?”

 

“Who. Am. I?” He asked more sternly.

 

“You’re James Kirk, also known as Jim. You’re Captain of the – “

 

“No.” It was the wrong answer. “I’m your friend.”

 

Sulu instantly shut his mouth, taken aback by something that should have been common knowledge. Scott on the other hand, breathed in deep and let his shoulders drop.

 

“I’m the friend that’s jumped after you when you were falling to your death.”

 

“Jim – “

 

So now he was ‘Jim’?

 

“I wouldn’t kick you off the ship, ‘cause I thought you were some wuss. I would never insult you and take you from where you rightfully belong. PASS or no PASS, you’d never lose my respect over some iniquitous program. Those days are over.”

 

It was corrupt. That’s all Jim could think of when Sulu’s eyes narrowed as if he reached some sort of epiphany. Corruption has taken refuge below his feet.

 

Scott called to Jim with a whisper.

 

“And you?” Jim pointed to Scott, holding in his deep sighs. “How did you d … how did your program end?”

 

“… murder.” Scott answered with a subtle frown.

 

Jim knew that this wasn’t only his fault, but of every serving Captain out there. This decision to not be witness to the SIM was a crime paved with great intentions. The brutal truth was that this was the worst thing they could have done.

 

They’ve failed their crew.

 

“Scotty…”

 

“It was quick.” Scott tried to reassure him. “I didn’t feel a thing. We needn’t bother with details. I can’t.”

 

Jim’s decision was made. “The next appointment is scheduled for next Friday at 0200, yes?”

 

They nodded to him. It was Sunday, and all SIMs were halted for now. None of them would be conducted for the next three days, Enterprise and non-Enterprise crewmembers alike, because when any test reached the maximum of twenty-eight days – SIM teams were required to take a mandatory break, including the evaluating Admirals.

 

“You two are officially relieved of all SIM program related duty.”

 

“Oi!”

 

“No, Scotty.”

 

“What if they FAIL?!” Scott questioned with wide eyes. “You need a detailed report.”

 

Sulu kept his eyes glued ahead on Jim. “Are you going in our stead? You said that as Captain, it was a breach of privacy and would ruin the crew atmosphere during our mission, especially considering the extended duration of this one.”

 

It was indeed a long mission that didn’t need any awkwardness before they left the planet - All good intentions that were burned by the lights, fragmenting to the smoke and into the air.

 

“I will handle it.” Jim managed a deadpanned expression in hopes of preventing further questions. “Use this time to do something for yourselves. Visit family. Travel. Something. I thank you for volunteering.”

 

“Is Commander Spock and Doctor McCoy relieved of being present in the SIMs as well?” Sulu asked anyways. “Is Lemi done too?”

 

“Yes.” Jim truthfully answered them. “Now – “

 

“Captain, what brought this on? Are you and Mr. Spock okay?” Scott scanned Jim with a contorted expression. “… Did he PASS?”

 

Jim couldn’t answer that. “I’m sorry. That’s all I have to say for today.”

 

It was the wrong thing to announce since Sulu and Scott simultaneously jerked up their seats, leaning closer to the screen while pressing their weight on their desks.

 

“The Commander …”

 

“The Commander is fine!” Jim didn’t mean to sound harsh. He did anyways, and he couldn’t take it back. “I’ll fill you in when I get more details. Kirk out.”

 

The second the familiar faces disappeared from his screen, he stood up from his seat and wiped his face with both palms, holding in the scream that was climbing up the ladder that was his parched throat.

 

He decided to enter his kitchen and grab himself a cup of ice-cold water, hoping that it would reduce the urge to vomit, thus hurting his throat further.

 

McCoy always suggested that milk was a better alternative, except what choice did Jim have if his taste buds haven’t touched actual milk in a long time? Milk wasn’t an option since that would most certainly result in regurgitation.

 

It would be just like the meat.

 

With a glass cup of cold water in his palms, he gulped down the contents, ignoring the brain freeze that came along with it. He quickly filled his lungs when finished.

 

He never put the cup back on the counter. He never walked to his room like a civilized person. He never took a moment to reevaluate his decision.

 

Honestly … he wasn’t even surprised when a clashing sound pierced his eardrums. He barely blinked when the fragments of his cup covered the wall across from him, raining down on his kitchen floor.

 

He wasn’t surprised at all.

 

 

**.**

**.**

**.**

 

**I just got your report sent to me hours early. Guess I can dedicate all my time to Spock, seeing as you don’t need me – right?**

**M’Benga doesn’t know you like I do.**

**Not to doubt his skills but if I find anything unsatisfactory, we’re having a heart-to-heart for each question.**

**Best believe I’ll get as intrusive as possible. Your scans look fine … so far.**

**I’ll let you know when I sign off on this.**

**Don’t pull this on me again.**

**Ever.**

**\- LM**

 

 

The call he had been expecting finally came through. He also expected it to be the vid comm request that it was. There was no way this conversation was going to happen just verbally.

 

He made his decision and there was no coming back from it. Instead of cancelling the call, he double checked his hair and pinched his cheeks to add some flush to it.

 

With a press of a button, he prepared himself.

 

_“…Jim? What is this?”_

                                                      

\- Hello to you too.

 

_“This … Jim – this worries me. You avoid all my invitations, and now this?”_

 

\- I work.

 

_“But when you do come, you barely care.”_

 

\- I do. You know that.

 

_“But it’s like picking fur from an old carpet that’s been abused by tribbles for a decade. I woke up with the intention of reading a good book from your old collection. I still have it with me. Anyways, so I was thinking that I could entertain a nice horror. Horror’s always nice."_

 

 _-_ Always _._

 

_"Or maybe a romance ..."_

 

\- Nah.

 

_"We both know I can’t tolerate fictional love of any capacity. Post warp literature is too synthetic for my liking.”_

 

\- Definitely.

 

_“Right. So instead, I got this beeping sound invading my silence. My loving silence, Jim. So I’m here – and I’m not reading a book like I wanted to. Instead, I’m reading an itinerary number.”_

 

\- Everything's been arranged.

 

_“What do I do with this little piece of data?”_

 

\- You fly.

 

_“To where?”_

 

All the answers to those questions were already in the message. He was just being played with.

 

\- My house.

 

_“…”_

 

\- Do you see the blues behind me? I know you like blue. The floors are navy while the walls are a pearl white. The furniture’s black but the accessories and the wall corners are a dark blue tone. You’ve always hated cyan blue. I get why. It’s a disgusting color. Can you believe the guy at the store suggested it?

 

_“…”_

 

The blank look across from him was one that made him doubt sending anything at all. Nonetheless, he tried.

 

\- I took your advice and made sure that the couches were parallel, facing the other instead of a long ‘L’ shape. Which you went out of your way to tell me you hate, I’ll add. Increases intimacy and homely vibes, you said. Turns out it works.

 

_“You’re worrying me.”_

\- Well to add to that irrational worry, I’ve been looking at some recommended catalogues. You could help me get some more stuff to fill this place up. Possibly antiques? I’m starting to understand its appeal. Very unique looking.

_“Will I get apprehended at the airport? Did you hack into my records and make me the most wanted person in America? No. In the Federation?”_

 

\- What? No!

 

_“Because I can’t have anything on my record. I’m a law-abiding citizen, and the civilian life has been treating me well.”_

 

\- Very law abiding. A prime civilian, in fact.

 

_“Are you infected by a pathogen of extraterrestrial origin?”_

\- Huh?

 

_“Is it fatal?”_

 

\- I’m not dying -

                                                                                     

_“It’s not like you haven’t died before.”_

The line was delivered so fast, Jim winced in response.

 

\- I’m better.

 

_“…”_

 

\- And I miss you too.

 

Jim folded his hand over his lap, and watched his mother’s whole torso deflate in her seat as a weak smile crawled up her thin face. She looked better, healthier and happier. Her dirty blonde hair had thick waves to them, instead of the brittle strands he was used to.

She was obviously doing something with her skin too. Whatever it was – he approved.

 

\- Don’t cry on me now.

 

Winona scoffed as she waved her hand. _“You’re imagining things.”_

 

\- Will you come?

 

_“I don’t entertain stupid questions.”_

 

\- Great. See you soon.

 

If the SIM taught him anything, it was to never take people for granted. He was going to do something incredibly stupid, and for that, he wanted his mom around. Seeing her face light up when he crushed her skeptical thoughts made him believe that everything might be better.

 

Might.

 

And he would take whatever he could get.

 

**.**

**.**

**.**

 

 

>  
> 
> _O Golden Boy, Golden Boy, wherefore art thou **Golden Boy**? Deny thy Starfleet and refuse thy name!_
> 
> _I’m thrilled to share that I have new information regarding this hot topic. I present to you thy recent admissions rating for the Academy and thy roster for our graduating class._
> 
> _Are we really surprised that there’s a fifteen percent decrease during this enrollment season, viewers? That's only for our Academy. The available Starfleet Academy core classes in South Africa, China, India and Australia are experiencing a five to eleven percent drop minimum._
> 
> _This is just getting started, mind you._
> 
>  
> 
> _The Academy enrollees this season are estimated to drop to twenty mid-way.  
>  _
> 
> _I’ll also add that there have been over twenty-two withdrawals – seven that happen to be from the ones who’ll take the SIM in a few months time._
> 
> _I told you graduates to prepare – not to abandon ship and drown!_
> 
>  
> 
> _And not only that – The swarm of **Vulcans** , you know – the ones that we were all shocked to have joined the Academy, especially since after such a disaster - are now making a statement. It’s a silent one, but powerful all the same. Four of them have withdrawn!_
> 
> _Another Four are **Andorians**._
> 
> _Another three are **Betazoids**.  
>  _
> 
> _Before you get your alien panties in a twist, I won’t mention any names. But I’m sensing a pattern…_
> 
> _I’m delighted to know that you’ve all just decided to eat that sweetened apple pie. Do you guys ingest those? I wouldn’t know._
> 
>  
> 
> _Is that siren call from that Academy becoming more faint?_
> 
> _Who’s turning down the volume?  
>  _
> 
>  
> 
> _Human or not, who studies for four years, and then drops out? Who studies for three, only to run with a tail between those shaken legs? Why leave when you’ve done two – you’re halfway through the race!_
> 
> _This feels like the beginnings of a **dystopian** tale. Starfleet – take notes. Your people are scared. So scared, that they’ll alter their life path and intended occupation. You’re losing your future officers, and with this spring-cleaning you have all decided to do, don’t you need as many as you can get? Frankly, this whole ordeal is starting to lose its zest and bordering on illogical._
> 
> _And aren’t Vulcans allergic to all things **illogical**?_
> 
>  
> 
> _Besides this tumbling chaos, you know whom we really want to hear from?_
> 
> _You guessed it._
> 
> _Attention all **Enterprise** crewmembers, wherefore art thou your **Commander Spock?** Maybe he can explain why his people are leaving. Sounds better than all of us sitting here with our speculations. We see that **Ambassador Sarek** has returned. It’s not that hard to put two and two together._
> 
> _It seems that some aliens aren’t as dandy as they tried to make us believe. Ready to get all emotional with us, our fellow Federation brothers and sisters and hermaphrodites alike?_
> 
>  
> 
> _And Mr. Golden Boy - Whether you guys speak or not, it’s one massive fail for one side._
> 
> **_Anti/Pro SIM?_ **
> 
> _Might as well go down with your opinion on your tombstone._
> 
> _Silence doesn’t suit you two._
> 
> _We’re all waiting._


	44. POST SIM - PART THIRTEEN

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the birthday wishes!  
> You're all phenomenal!
> 
> Song: Conquer by RIVVRS  
> Warning: Evil queens.
> 
> Much, much love!
> 
> ~X

 

** POST SIM - PART THIRTEEN **

 

 

There wasn’t much to say for Captain Collin Gerald in Jim’s book. He only met the man once, and that was when the conference room they were in blew to the sky by the firearms Khan shot at them. Luckily Commander Fey was off-planet, so she didn’t have to experience that mess.

 

It was an odd feeling, being here and conversing with someone who saw him almost breakdown from Christopher’s death.

 

Jim guessed that this was why he refrained from forming an acquaintanceship from anyone besides his own crew. He was famous in the public eye, and a ghost in the Starfleet one.

 

Gerald was in his early fifties, and sporting a few silver strands, which was weird, considering how the Captain barely had wrinkles of any considerable depth. With his tan and tough build; Jim discerned that health was a huge factor in the man’s life. Then again, it had to be to maintain his position.

 

Jim awkwardly sat in one of Gerald’s living room and let out a sigh, relaxing all his muscles from the hour and seventeen minute drive.

 

This house was impossible to miss. In fact, it was pretty imposing. It made sense for there to be resplendent furniture within in. The material under his ass could have been more expensive than all of his own combined.

 

It was the epitome of all bachelor pads. One could easily get lost in here. If Gerald had children running in here, one would never know.

 

Jim wasn’t a materialistic person, but one would have to be numb to not be in awe by it.

 

“Drink for the long travels?”

 

“Whiskey.” Jim suggested as a simple joke.

 

“Same here.” Gerald let out a low laugh and disappeared into the back.

 

Jim did a double take, and heard Gerald shuffling around in that granite coated kitchen he briefly caught sight of earlier.

 

“I don’t know about you, but I’ve needed a drink for awhile. Just had no one to have it with.” Gerald confessed in the back. “I’m not one to drink alone.”

 

“A man like you must have some friends.”

 

A few clacks of glass later, “Spending most of my time in space significantly reduces my chances of that. I would consider some of my crew friends, but with this SIM reintroduction, they’re too paranoid to look at me now.”

 

“But you’ve chosen not to view them as well.” Both brows knitted together. There was no reason for Gerald’s crew to avoid him.

 

One sarcastic sound came from the kitchen. “I know.”

 

Jim corrected his thought, blinking away Sulu and Scott’s faces. Gerald’s crew should’ve trusted him, but after what his own crew did to him – he could understand how such a thing came to be. “Benefits of being a Captain.”

 

“Certainly.” Gerald said, strolling back into the living room.

 

Jim looked up and accepted the glass cup with a nod. Gerald genuinely smiled and did a subtle cheer before sitting across from him in a semi - man spread position.

 

Everything screamed ‘casual’, and it aided in settling some of Jim’s hyperactive nerves. An older man might have been disturbed by the lack of manners, but he didn’t mind. In fact, he felt welcomed because of it, and that was all that mattered. The unexpected drop in formality was one he didn’t know he needed until now.

 

Now he looked down at his own attire and cringed when he compared them to Gerald’s. The _Xīwàng_ Captain was sporting a simple olive t-shirt with black sweats, whereas Jim wore dress pants and a buttoned shirt, that was actually buttoned all the way to the top.

 

The top.

 

Moments like these he felt like his young age melted through. It was a thought that occurred way more since he woke up in the hospital, briefly thinking that the bright light was a glimpse to the afterlife.

 

Now any lights that were anything but true, were a threat to his life.

 

“Hear what’s happening at the Academy?” Gerald nudged his head up.

 

A sigh escaped is lips. “Unfortunately.”

 

“Cadets are dropping like flies.”

 

Jim took a quick sip of his drink, letting the burning liquid trail down. “Do you agree with what they’re doing? The gatherings might turn into protests.”

 

He wouldn’t know what to do if he were in that position. So close to graduation, and only to have this shoved into his face is a dilemma that would’ve shattered him. He invested so much into Starfleet, and Jim was sincerely concerned on what he would have ultimately decided. Leaving was a sacrifice he didn’t have the luxury to entertain.

 

That was relevant then, and it was now.

 

“Don’t know how to answer that.” A small silver strand fell down to Gerald’s nose. “I know my father wished he never did it, so I can see why.”

 

“So it doesn’t make them weak in your eyes?”

 

“I’m not some stuck up old man with a tentacle up my ass, son. I like to think of myself as a reasonable person.” Gerald leaned back on his double cushioned couch and placed one hand on the top of the couch, fully extended as if there was a person sitting near him. “I assumed my crew knew that. Too bad they’re too hesitant to inform me of their personal troubles. Too bad that after all we have endured, my face is just a reminder of power. Power that was once abused and used to make others feel like shit when those of a lower rank had every right to be.”

 

Jim dropped his eyes to his lap. It honestly felt cathartic to hear this from someone else. “We’re supposed be there for them.”

 

“But we just so happen to be part the problem.” Gerald sadly admitted.

 

“A threat apparently.” A threat to their respect, mental stability and careers.

 

“Exactly.”

 

They both took another gulp of the burning liquid at that and finished their glasses.

 

“Now, how has the crew roster changes been going for you?” Gerald asked. “I wish I could say mine’s has been pleasant.”

 

“I’m hitting thirty now - mainly engineering and medical.” Luckily, Scott and McCoy had yet to complain about that.

 

Gerald’s brows peaked up. “My chief engineer, Lieutenant Commander Daryl, has lost six of his people, one he was particularly fond of.”

 

“Well I have a few officers from your ship being transferred to me. There was one ensign that asked to be assigned to engineering. With his credentials, I don’t see why not.” Scott would make the kid feel right at home.

 

“Ensign Bach, correct?”

 

“Yep.”

 

Gerald cynically laughed. “Imagine going from a six month mission to a five – year one. Daryl will be furious. I know this sounds sentimental, but they were friends.”

 

“Compatibility transfers do tend to split friends,” Jim remembered how everyone was adamant on staying together, and how he declared to work to the bone to keep it as such. “Bach doesn’t sound like he’ll be okay with this.”

 

“I don’t think a mission of that caliber was in his immediate future. He might like it.” Gerald added, pouting his lower lip with false optimism.

 

“He might not.” Jim frowned at that.

 

“Either way, he’s a great asset. A phenomenal man who always gives his full effort.” Gerald elaborated, “Piece of advice. If you worry about every little thing, you might not make it to my age.”

 

“It’s natural for me.”

 

Gerald squinted at that. “Clearly.”

 

“Any idea on who might be your new XO?”

 

With Jim’s question, Gerald’s whole posture depleted, his shoulders falling and a slow frown developing on that face. “It’s confusing. There are so many great officers out there, however when I think about that position, no one’s worthy. I already have my set ways. It’s like getting married again after a divorce. Too much trouble.”

 

Jim couldn’t agree more. “Not one person in mind then?”

 

“I’ll just have to wait for more names to pop up. There’s still more changes underway after all.” The cringe Gerald did was one that couldn’t be mistaken. He was thoroughly disturbed by the idea. “Sucks you’ll have to endure this too. Considering your history, I’m sure it’ll be complicated to just get someone new.”

 

The last statement was equivalent to a sudden bitch slap across the face. “I never said –“

 

“Commander Spock’s PASS was never put into question. I know he did, but sorry to say … everyone just assumes he became victim to a compatibility transfer. He’s Vulcan.”

 

“Vulcan or not, we’re a great team.” Jim defended them, considering that they indeed passed with perfect compatibility. He wasn’t going to mention the contract, because that would mean explaining other things. Regardless, it irked him that the others saw them as anything, but the perfectly compatible duo they were.

 

“I never said you two weren’t. Clearly you two are. But you don’t operate the same. You don’t think the same. In fact, I can see you two bickering at times. Christopher told me as such. And I have to say; bickering isn’t efficient for a command team. You two may have your ways, and it may be great for you, but the compatibility transfer means that there is better out there. That’s all.”

 

“I’m not going to let some numbers define us.” He didn’t need some test to tell him Spock and him were perfect for the other, despite their few differences. Compatibility transfer or not, it was all bullshit to him.

 

Gerald tsked, “Numbers define the universe.”

 

Jim decided to change the topic immediately. “In your first letter, you told me that Commander Linda Fey’s transfer was one she personally requested. It was an option. Your compatibility was never doubted.” The numbers were in their favor, and yet they were working against it.

 

“Yes.” Gerald answered, understanding Jim’s plea to avoid discussing Spock in general for now. “We both received a PASS. There just happened to be some complications along the way.”

 

“Did Starfleet have anything to do with your separation?” Jim asked, instead of saying _‘Did they give you two a contract?’_

 

“No, and there’s no one to blame for what’s happened to us.” Gerald then stood up and patted his shirt. “I don’t know about you, but I’m going to need more.”

 

Jim didn’t have a response to the sudden movement. Instead, he sat patiently and waited. It wasn’t long until Gerald brought the whole bottle on the coffee table between them.

 

“Drinks happen to equal deep conversations.” Jim lightly jested.

 

Gerald opened the top with a ‘pop’, “Confessing to my SIM is the deepest conversation there is, Kirk.”

 

“I don’t think I can do the same, at least not in detail …”

 

“Call it selfish then. This weight needs to be gone.” The brown liquid trickled into the glistening cup, just waiting to be indulged to conceal their troubles.

 

**.**

**.**

**.**

 

“Stranded?”

 

“M class planet. Unknown.”

 

Fey and Gerald were nearing the end of their own five-year mission. It was deep space. During the SIM, the USS Xīwàng received a distress signal from an unknown source. It wasn’t long until they found it. Something told Jim that Gerald should have ignored it.

 

Which was something Jim knew he was incapable of doing himself.

 

“All memories were fabricated. None of the add-ons were actually my crew. Only Fey. Same for you?”

 

“Same for me.” Jim answered. “Add-ons can’t be people you’ve already met, right?”

 

“Precisely.” Gerald wiped his mouth after another gulp of his second cup. “Once we entered the solar system, we discovered that the distress signal was meant for a nearby planet - we just happened to have intersected it. Against our better judgment, we decided to observe as much as we could after we received approval."

 

“What happened?”

 

“Turns out, the inhabitants were in the midst of a civil war.” Gerald pinched the bridge of his nose. “They called themselves the Fektee.” The emphasis on the ‘k’ sounded like a harsh ‘ _kh_ ’. “That translates into ‘The Two.’”

 

“Two?”

 

“As in a society of two. You had the Khusee and the Khusoo – always separate. You know, I always assumed that extreme elitism was a human trait, but it seems to be universal.” Gerald did an eye-roll. “The Khusee were the privileged ones and the rulers, whereas the Khusoo were the ones that lacked. They never exchanged words, only through messengers and public announcements.”

 

“Sounds like a pre-warp governmental structure.”

 

“It gets worse. The Khusee’s leader was a queen. They operated on a _Monarchy_. This queen kept demanding more payments of valuable assets, as a sign of the Khusoo’s allegiance. She claimed that it was her birthright. The Khusoo’s began to rebel.”

 

“Her ego began the war.” Jim discerned.

 

“Our shuttle landed right on Khusoo territory. The away team included Fey and I. Now, give me your word that what I say next doesn’t leave this room – “

 

“I give you my word.” Jim instantly replied, thoroughly acknowledging the caution Gerald threw at him.

 

“… After a few days of conversing with the natives, Fey became … attached. I have to admit, the add-ons were courteous and kind. They offered as much as they could, making careful sure that they had enough for their payments to the queen. We documented as much as we could about the war.” Gerald sucked in his lips. “We negotiated with the natives of the planet nearby to seek a solution, and they claimed to have no interest in the Fektee’s _petty_ disputes. The Federation claimed that because a civilization just became warp capable, it was not an invitation for our interference. Only the Khusee had the technology, so the other’s couldn’t escape. How was my ship going to end a war of billions?”

 

The hopelessness emitting from Gerald’s voice caused alarms to ring in Jim’s mind. He could easily imagine what their Round Four consisted of. “Did the queen ever – “

 

“The queen’s kingdom was one of grandeur, Kirk. It had many interesting features. Signal blocking was apparently one of them. She had been watching us during our stay with the Khusoo, and she could no longer tolerate it.” Gerald gritted his teeth, regretful in his SIM actions. “Everyone in my away team was rendered unconscious, along with a few of the natives that were with us at the time. We woke up to glass shattering screams. … The queen approached us, saying that one dying in the back was because the rotten Khusoo’s family had nothing left to give. Life was the only payment.”

 

“Gerald…”

 

“It was going to be about time ‘till we were rescued.” Gerald blurted out. “I knew that with every fiber of my being.”

 

“You just had to buy time.”

 

Gerald nodded, “Fey provided distraction by talking about us humans, and how we have overcome such structures of government in our past. She specified on how we’re no longer a primitive species, but one that embraces unity. Her words only angered the Khusee queen.”

 

Jim imagined Fey being dragged away because of this. “Did she – “

 

“She never died.” A small gulp was heard from the Captain. “I never _allowed_ it.”

 

“What did you do …?”

 

“I told the queen that I disagreed with Fey. That the Khusoo’s were indeed rotten, and as leader – my people had to listen to me. Last thing I needed was anyone to tell me how to run my ship. I sympathized with the queen as much as I could. I informed her that Commander Fey did not mean her words.”

 

Gerald sold out.

 

“The Khusee demon laughed in response. It was obvious that she didn’t believe me.”

 

“She needed proof.” Jim deduced.

 

“You’re catching on.”

 

Gerald claimed that the Khusoo were rotten, so he had to show that these were his true thoughts. It didn’t take a genius to see the queen dragging the Khusoo’s one by one.

 

“Fey offered herself in their stead.” Gerald emptied out the contents in his cup, automatically pouring another. “Just when I thought the queen couldn’t become more sadistic, she asked me to choose.”

 

Jim instantly knew what Gerald’s decision was.

 

“I heard that the SIM implements one of your biggest fears, and there it was. I had to choose. She made me become God, Kirk.” The clang of the glass hitting the table was a loud one. “The four natives that were with us were killed one after the other, all in front of Fey. Sometimes I still see purple blood below my feet. She cared for them and they died for her. Only one Khusoo was spared, but only physically. He never recovered from being bathed in the blood of his family."

 

Jim finished his cup and accepted the offer for another round. He hated his vivid imagination in that moment.

 

“That was the end of our documentation of the Fektee. Once rescued, we attempted one more visit by Fey's plea, and we then found out that we were exiled from every Khusoo village.” It was clear that the Fektee could never join the Federation in their current unstable predicament. Jim could see that the exile hurt more emotionally than diplomatically since that was a null. “My duty is to make sure that I get as many officers as I can back home. My loyalty was to them. And she can’t … Linda doesn’t look at me anymore.”

 

This was why they decided to separate. There was no love affair. There was no contract. The SIM destroyed them all on its own.

 

“I’m not sure if you’ve received your SIM file yet, but I’ll advise you to not watch it. I played it - assuming that it was solely my experience. I thought I could see what I’ve done wrong, and view what I could’ve changed. Unfortunately, I discovered that it was Fey’s as well. Temptation is a killer Kirk, and I got sucked into it. I view it every night, and I’m still not done. The things she said so far on there … I can’t forget them, and I never will. They were never add-ons to her, and I let them die.”

 

“You don’t regret your decision, do you?” As Captain, Jim could understand both sides of the spectrum. This partnership became tainted.

 

“I lost her respect along the way, but you’re incorrect. I do regret one thing, and that was acknowledging that distress call. It happened to be one of many that the Fektee neighbors ignored. I should have done the same.”

Gerald shrugged, looking somewhat at peace with everything. His emotions weren’t as raw as Jim’s. His hands seemed clean of this. Almost.

“All in all, I don’t regret choosing Fey. No matter how she feels, she can’t take that away from me.”

 

“I see …” And Jim truly did. He saw it all.

 

Gerald snapped his lips, skeptical in his expression. “You’re judging.”

 

“Your experiences are your own. I’m the last to judge.” Jim twirled his half filled cup in his palms. “Those ranked above us don’t understand. Trust me, I do. Everything we went through, those pivotal moments are simply dubbed as ‘Round Four’. Can you believe that?"

 

“Sounds like a tournament or something, doesn’t it? Degrading, if anything.” Gerald scoffed. “Just chuck us into the Colosseum while they’re at it.”

 

“At least Commander Spock and I were together without any add-ons to be concerned for in our vicinity.” And he was forever grateful for that. “The ones that held us, desired to locate the rest of our group.”

 

“Sacrificing oneself for a better cause is easier. I wish I had that opportunity, instead of being stuck with choosing.” Gerald leaned forward, curiosity glimmering in his eyes. “Tell me, were you still officers?”

 

Jim cleared his throat. “I wasn’t.”

 

“A simple civilian then.”

 

“A surviving one.” He answered. “No Starfleet experience under my belt.”

 

“Memory manipulation is a tough one.” Gerald echoed Jim’s thoughts. “I guess being a private civilian does have its perks though…”

 

“Perks?”

 

“Yes. I don’t have to know the reasoning, but I can conclude that Mr. Spock must have been the more valuable captive. You could have feigned obliviousness. One, you owed Starfleet nothing. In vernacular, you owed Mr. Spock nothing.”

 

“I never sold any of them out, especially Spock.” Not once did he call Spock a rotten alien, and pledge his allegiance to the leader of Camp Salvatus. He could have, but he refrained. He could have sold out all of Warehouse 15. "Starfleet or not, these were my people. Spock was my people."

 

It was impossible to utter the words that swam freely in sin.

 

The water drenched cloth coming in his direction and the fingers buried in his wound, never forced him to think of it again. He was prepared to die.

 

It was then that Gerald’s lips curved up into a wide smile. “Even as a memory wiped civilian, you know where your loyalties lie. You see, now this is why I like you, Mr. Kirk. Lord knows Christopher did.”

 

There was something about Gerald that poked at Jim. It was a trust forming faster than any of his past relationships. “The feeling is mutual, Mr. Gerald.”

 

**.**

**.**

**.**

 

 **SIM** **_9273SK91720_ ** **has been delivered to Captain James T. Kirk.**

**[Accept]/[Deny]?**

 

Jim curled on his couch and watched the blinking SIM serial number dance around his holo-screen. He should have deliberated long and hard, prior to accepting the file. But there was nothing of the kind. Despite Gerald’s advice, he knew that it would be a matter of when, not if.

 

There were so many things he hankered to see with his own eyes. As a spectator, he could observe things he was previously oblivious to. Spock was no longer resonating in his mind, but this footage would mean that Spock was still here. Jim was extremely captivated by the idea, seriously questioning if this was a gift or a curse.

 

Here, he had the opportunity to see Spock before he became Chief.

 

He could see his friends …

 

The trial …

 

Spock’s declarations of love, considering that it was the only way he’d ever hear those tender adorations ever again …

 

He could see so many things and …

 

Jim covered his face with his palms and exhaled. “This is everything I said I wouldn’t do. Everything.”

 

But would it count?

 

He had the right to this file.

 

… but not to everything in it.

 

It made him wonder if Spock accepted, or denied the file without thought. Was Spock’s moral being tested as well?

 

After deciding on temporarily avoiding the seduction of betrayal, Jim tuned to ‘Your Life Tonight’, trying his very hardest to forget the SIM file burning a hole in his system.

 

Celine Varra challenged him. She claimed that if he were to fail, he would then at least have his opinion carved on his tombstone. The Golden Boy would do just that, because the Golden Boy wasn’t a puppet for anyone’s amusement. He just hoped that he didn’t snap as he was being bent to immeasurable lengths.

**.**

**.**

**.**

 

 

> _**Reporter:** Ensign S'kuul, as the third Vulcan to have graduated from the Academy in history, alongside Lieutenant Grayensha, is there anything you'd like to add about the SIM - _
> 
> _**Ensign S'kuul:** I have nothing to add to what has transpired within Starfleet._
> 
> _**Reporter:** : What about those that have withdrawn from the Academy? Surely you know why, at least._
> 
> _**Ensign S'kuul:** Indeed I do, and I am following their example. I, myself, am no longer an officer of Starfleet._
> 
> _**Reporter:** Wait ... what? Is this because of your SIM?_
> 
> _**Ensign S'kuul:** I had yet to receive my appointment. Now, I ask that you move, so that I may reach my destination.  _
> 
>  ....
> 
> _One, you have Commander Spock remain silent._
> 
> _Two, the Ambassador of New Vulcan arrives._
> 
> _Three, Vulcans ditching at alarming rates.  
>  _
> 
> _Four, apply this pattern to other Federation species._
> 
>  
> 
> _Those negotiations aren't going so well, are they?_
> 
> _Starfleet, you're turning a deaf ear, and your people aren't having it._
> 
>  
> 
> _Tsk, tsk._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Our beloved doctor's POV is next.  
> ~X


	45. POST SIM - PART FOURTEEN

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DOUBLE UPDATES!  
> I missed doing this!
> 
> Song: Secrets by Sleeping Wolf
> 
> Warning: Sad Spock.
> 
> Enjoy?
> 
> ~X

 

** POST SIM - PART FOURTEEN **

 

 

 

 

> _Tick,_ **_tick_ ** _, tick._
> 
> _To those of you that haven't abandoned ship, get ready to iron those robotic looking uniforms. Perfect your salutes, and memorize those oaths. Get ready to go where no_ **_one_ ** _has gone before._
> 
> _But before all of that – reach an understanding within yourself._ **_Meditate_ ** _like you’re his Holiness Dalai Lama. Ask those Vulcan cadets for some tips. If they're willing to help, that is. Put on some chill mix music and give your conscious a_ **_thorough_ ** _sweeping. Don’t forget to get rid of those skeletons I told you about._
> 
> _If you don’t – you may not like yourself anymore, let alone go out there into the fabricated world – all_ **_alone_ ** _._
> 
> _Those skeletons you’ve been keeping hidden will talk freely._
> 
> _**Find**_ _them._ ** _Step_** _on them. Make them_ ** _ash_** _._
> 
> _However, this advice only applies to those that are deemed normal. If you_ **_literally_ ** _hide skeletons, then this SIM was brought back to life because of people like you. Imagine that._
> 
> _This has been Celine Varra of Your Life Tonight. _

 

 

**.**

**.**

**.**

Leonard was allured by the idea of dashing out of the grocery store, and making his way to Jim’s house to begin his cursed ranting. It wasn’t even a minute later that he concluded that there wasn’t a point.

 

Jim would do what Jim wished.

 

But didn’t he deserve a call?

 

_‘Hey, Bones – M’Benga is going to do my POST – SIM eval. See ya later?’_

 

Honestly, this was somewhat his fault. Maybe he expected too much. He should have taken Jim’s keys. He knew that much at least.

Then again, Jim should have trusted that Leonard wasn’t a fool. He wouldn’t have placed Spock and Jim in the same room. Their examinations would have been conducted separately. For some reason, it seemed to not be enough for Jim.

When the kid decided that it was high-time to respond, his excuse was that he had work to do throughout the day. An earlier examination was for the better, and he didn't want to bother Leonard, despite the fact that Leonard explicitly stated that Jim was never a bother.

Either way, Jim's excuse rang true, since Sulu contacted Uhura, thus Uhura contacting him and Spock. Jim said something that alarmed them. Leonard also understood that Jim might have also not said enough, which would cause the exact same result.

 

A blink later, and Spock’s comm beeped. The hobgoblin robotically flicked it open, scanned his eyes on the screen and shut it soon after.

Leonard assumed it was Uhura again, and before he could mention it, Spock blurted out that his SIM was finally sent to him.

He didn’t miss the gulp that soon followed.

 

“Don’t accept it.” Leonard sternly ordered.

 

Spock turned to Leonard, eyes slightly wide by the harsh tone. “There is no logical reason to deny what is rightfully mine.”

 

Leonard shook his head. Spock wasn’t getting it. “Dual SIMs include _both_ perspectives.”

 

“That is expected since Jim was included in it.” Spock wasn’t bothered, which led Leonard to think that the hobgoblin still wasn’t getting it.

 

Leonard clarified, “You’ll see everything he’s seen, which means you’ll see Jim before you two met as well. His eyes become yours, Spock.”

 

Spock halted in his steps as if the air was sucked out of him. He directed his eyes on the cart in front of him, finding the empty space more interesting than his surroundings, probably thinking deeply about what Leonard said.

 

It was abnormal to be sorry for Spock.

It was so weird, it made his skin crawl.

He wasn't one to pity, and Spock wasn't one to desire any.

 

“Do what you have to, Spock. All I can do is warn you.”

 

“Jim was sent an identical file, I’m assuming.”

 

“He should have, yes.” Leonard would be an idiot to think that Jim wasn’t watching it right this moment.

 

“Then he will see _everything,_ ” Spock hitched, the fear failing to stay in its borders. “Everything.”

 

“I mean … there’s still censored material. They're cut out from the final file entirely."

 

“You know very well that, that is the least of my concern, considering what I have been subjected to.” Spock replied. “There were occasions when I was weak, McCoy. Moments I would prefer he never witness …”

 

This really, really sucked. Jim, like many other Captains, gave their crew the comfort of having privacy within their programs. Out of everyone on the Enterprise, Spock was denied this privilege. There was a time when Spock's SIM exclusively belonged to him, except that privilege could very well be stripped again with a click of a button.

 

“Spock …” Leonard noticed how Spock glared at his own wrists. If he thought correctly, Spock was remembering those very wrists tide up on rotten bark exterior.

There was a time when him and M'Benga sincerely thought Spock would return to them, prior to meeting Jim. He could still hear the chants.

 

Spock clenched his eyes shut as if he was in pain, dropping his limbs down to his sides. “I cannot – “

 

“Listen, I’ll ask him. Okay?” Leonard suggested, hoping that it would help enough for Spock to continue his daily tasks, without looking like he wanted to say 'hello' to the floor with his face.

 

“Your efforts are appreciated.”

 

Leonard knew it too. “No problem.”

 

**.**

**.**

**.**

 

Their cart was finally filled with enough food for Leonard to be comfortable. His goal was that if Spock decided to lock himself in his house, there would be ample ingredients to make filling meals.

He never wanted Spock to feel trapped in his own house again, but realistically, if it ever came to that, Spock would never go hungry.

 

Spock, on the other hand, wasn't satisfied with the amount and continued to shop for more.

 

“Is there something that interests you, McCoy?” Spock pointed out, currently acknowledging Leonard’s incessant staring.

 

_Yeah._

_When will you stop looking like you’re dead inside?_

“If I tell you this one thing, do you promise to not kill me? I got other SIMs to conduct soon, and I need to be breathin’ for that to happen.”

 

“I do not commit murd –“ Spock instantly shut his mouth. There was a hint of a snarl forming on those lips.

 

Leonard wanted to bang his head on the shelf to his right, the one with all the cauliflowers. He then decided that if he were to deliberately injure himself, he would do it next to the bread rolls. Softer cushions.

 

His remark was an innocent one, but insensitive all the same. He honestly meant no harm by it, but nonetheless, it unlocked a whole awkward aura. It floated around and kept them hostage in its cocoon.

 

Today, not once had Spock said his typical phrases, like _‘I am Vulcan._ ’ or _‘I do not lie.’_ – and now, Spock avoided the ones that declared he never killed. Spock never finished that sentence because he knew that he was capable of murder.

It would have been a lie.

They both knew it.

 

Leonard spared Spock of the tricky moment. “Cabbage.”

 

“The red krauts, please.” Spock quickly replied, looking more thankful than ever for moving on from that unpleasant reminder.

 

“The _purple_ one it is.” He took a few steps to his right and grabbed the desired item.

 

Spock added a few sticks of celery right beside it, and then cleared his throat. “To what were you referring to in your previous inquiry?”

 

Oh, darn it. This was going to be complicated to explain. “During your SIM, someone reached out to me.” More like harassed him with messages and calls.

 

It wasn’t hard to miss the slight squeeze Spock did on the edge of the metal cart. The whitening of Spock's knuckles was evidence enough.

 

“… It was your father.” He steadily completed.

 

Spock just blankly stared at him, then blinked as if trying to reassure himself that Leonard was actually real and not some add-on.

 

“Carrots.” Spock answered instead.

 

Leonard sighed when Spock moved ahead and made his way to the shredded bagged carrots. He followed behind the oddly acting Vulcan, because he had no other choice.

 

“He’s worried about you.” Leonard added.

 

It was the scariest shit ever. Leonard had no idea how one acted when approached by the ambassador of an entire planet. Especially when the last time he saw the intimidating man, Jim was being choked out of his life.

 

He gave Sarek the minimal amount of information he was allowed to share, but kept getting harassed by calls, which increased ever since Spock reached the maximum.

 

“I will contact him at my leisure.” Spock replied, as he paused to gaze at an apple like he was inspecting some newly recovered ancient artifact.

 

“Leisure?” He sucked in his lips, vividly imagining his daughter disturbingly saying the same about him. The nausea of it all threatened to loom over. “He’s your _dad_.”

 

“He is the ambassador for a telepathically enabled species, whom refrained from warning said species that they would be stripped of said telepathic abilities.”

 

Leonard wasn’t sure on what he heard in Spock’s voice, but ‘disgust’ was the closest description.

 

“No, Spock. They all know. Every. Single. One. Of. Them.” Sarek informed Leonard that all knew of what to expect in the SIM. Which meant that Lieutenant Grayensha was forewarned. Why she decided to still take it, Leonard would never know. And he wasn't interested to find out.

 

She scared him.

 

The information registered quickly. “Then he refrained from telling his own son.” Spock said in the saddest tone Leonard’s ever heard. "I was excluded."

 

Sarek told Leonard that he had viable reasons as to why he kept this from Spock. In fact, now that Leonard knew what he knew, he believed Sarek’s reasons wholeheartedly. Spock wouldn’t have listened to a word and still dived into this willingly.

 

It didn’t make sense to make one fearful when they would forget it all when it mattered, Sarek said.

 

“He’s constantly conversing with the ambassador of Betazed and the ambassador of Andoria. They're actively speaking with the Federation Council. That includes the President, Spock.”

 

“Then they should have succeeded in these negotiations prior to – “

 

“Before your SIM, you mean.”

 

Spock raised a brow, not denying a thing. “Precisely.”

 

“We both know that they’re trying to keep this under the rocks, and Starfleet won’t budge – “

 

“Under the rocks?” Spock said with a hint of confusion. “As in secrecy?”

 

“Yeah. They’re not just going to make some big announcement and say, _‘This is hurting our brains, even though we’re perfectly stable on file afterwards. Which concludes that we’re traumatized, thus emotionally compromised. So yeah, we have feelings.’”_

 

Leonard somehow had a feeling that Spock knew his dad was on Earth, and not on New Vulcan. Sarek was spotted by paparazzi, and his arrival gained more attention only after the Vulcan cadet withdrawals went public.

 

“My father never accepted my admittance to Starfleet. He claimed that someday, I would come to regret it. Since choosing this occupation, I am certain that he would have reminded me that as an officer, as a Commander, it is my duty to complete all obligatory screenings, tests and assigned missions. I chose this. – Perhaps he refrained from informing me as a tactic of further instilling his original assumptions.”

 

“You make him sound so cruel, Spock.” Leonard moved the cart a bit forward to get a better glimpse of Spock’s rigid face. The man that called him perpetually, with worry clear as day - couldn’t have been the man Spock described.

 

“Doctor, Vulcan was a founder of the Federation. Vulcans aided in the formation of Starfleet, and yet – do you see many of us as active officers?”

 

“… no.”

 

“During my earlier years, I was always perplexed as to why. There has been one Vulcan that served on a Starfleet ship, and that was solely because the Vulcan High Command appointed her. Her position was created out of mistrust. I am the first to have enlisted in the Academy from my own free will, become a cadet and serve in Starfleet.”

 

“You think the SIMs have something to do with it?”

 

“Indeed. My people have never considered Starfleet as a possible professional occupation. It remained as such after the ban, so I never discovered the correlation. I assumed it was the common distaste to work alongside humans for a prolonged period of time. I can confidently say that my assumption was a small fraction of the larger problem."

 

Leonard decided to ignore the whole xenophobic tone, deciding to stay on the topic of higher priority. “Spock … He’s not going to say that’s it’s your fault, and that you got what was coming to you. From what I know, he doesn't seem like the bitter type."

 

“He would not word it in that manner, but the point would remain. Vulcan’s should not actively serve in Starfleet.”

 

“Why do you ignore the fact that there are three Vulcans serving right now, including you?” And one in particular wanted to chop his head off, after the ‘ _Frank’_ incident. “And why do you ignore the fifty-eight Vulcans currently enrolled in the Academy? Did your father reprimand them too?”

 

Spock dropped the apple, and turned to McCoy with parted lips.

 

“Oh, you thought I didn’t care enough to look into it?” Leonard tsked. “We both know damn well as to why they’re all there like a swarm of bees all the sudden.”

 

Spock started to place the apples in a bag, and avoided eye contact again. “I have my theories.”

 

Leonard really wanted Spock to face reality. Spock ignored most of the things about him online. He ignored what people said, and most importantly, he ignored the changes that happened around him, actively denying any relation.

 

“There’s only one – and it’s not a theory.” Leonard stated. “It’s a fact, and that fact is that they saw you, they heard about you trying to save your planet – trying to save your people – You went back, Spock.“

 

“I do not wish to discuss my failings, Doctor.” Spock jibed when he put another bag in, moving the cart further down the aisle in the direction of other fruits and vegetables.

 

That voice was so cold. Leonard didn’t miss how Spock never said that it was a failed effort of Starfleet as a whole, but only that of himself.

 

“Shhh, just for one moment.” Leonard wasn’t willing to hear any of that right now. There was only so much negativity his soiled soul could absorb. “They see Starfleet as a door to more opportunities. They joined so that they could do better, so that they could prevent this from happening again. They wished they were more involved like you were, Spock.”

 

Spock moved forward, looking straight into nothing. “They wished for their people to be alive.” He deadpanned.

 

“You’re the people too.” Leonard grabbed the ends of the cart, preventing further movement, and showed Spock his most menacing stare. “And now, you’re their inspiration. That’s the reality. That’s what you’ve become. Now you gotta suck it up, and deal with it.”

 

Spock did a swift scan of the area, then glanced in Leonard’s direction with a stern line on his lips. Whatever Spock wanted to say, he decided against it.

 

“Do you know how many will graduate this year?” Leonard continued.

 

Spock exhaled. “Sixteen now that four have withdrawn.”

 

“Sixteen. Sixteen more Vulcans this year than the last. Sixteen Vulcans that have a decision to make. Do they leave, and seek their education elsewhere … or do they take the SIM and keep hush?"

 

“Regardless, since they are all currently aware of the complications, a logical decision will be made.”

 

They both knew that logic now wore grey silk, and strutted down the runway that had too many paths to count. Logic was lost.

 

“Your dad cares, Spock. And not just about them, but about you too.”

 

Spock’s heavy sigh was too foreign to Leonard’s ears. This wasn’t the Chief anymore. This was Spock in flesh and bone, and yet, he _sighed_ like he normally would if he were speaking to add-ons Markus or Karim.

 

He vividly remembered Jim covering his ears when Leonard first mentioned them. The same response wouldn't come from Spock, he knew that, however Leonard did wonder if Spock missed them. Did he think of them at all?

 

“McCoy – “

 

Spock lost all in that world. The only anchor in this world claimed to have 'hated' him. Leonard would try his best to be that anchor, except it wasn't healthy for Spock to blatantly ignore another aiding hand.

 

“Call him.”

 

“Leonard,” Spock swiftly took back custody of the cart. “Onions.”

 

Leonard watched Spock’s retreating back and soon followed.

 

“Yes, sir."

 

**.**

**.**

**.**

_“To whom am I speaking?”_

 

With all the onerous duties Jim has completed, there was one thing that always remained in the back of his mind.

Originally, he refused to dial some random number that was slipped to him in the sketchiest manner possible. A simple electronic message would have sufficed, except Archer clearly endeavored to eliminate any possible connections. The effort was meaningless since the Admiral's word was more valuable than Jim’s anyways.

 

_“This is my personal number, and since you’re not listed in my contacts, I’m going to assume you’re another sneaky reporter.”_

 

Jim swallowed when he heard the voice get sharper.

He knew exactly who this was, and this was the moment that he had to make a critical decision.

 

Should he hang up, or should he continue?

 

_“And let me tell you, I will file harassment claims faster than you can blink, sir, ma’am, hooligan, or whatever – “_

 

“Hello.” He interjected, internally questioning his sanity.

 

_“No comment!”_

 

“Sir, I’m not a reporter …”

_“Then you better be my darn mother, and she’s six feat under, so speak up before I get this number tracked and end up in your home within minutes.”_

 

“Actually, I’m a Starfleet officer, sir.”

_“… You’re kidding?”_

 

“Afraid not.”

 

_“You must be really desperate to call me, officer.”_

 

“Yeah … desperate would be the perfect description.”

 

_“Well, cough up your name son.”_

 

Jim breathed in. There was no coming back from this. “James Tiberius Kirk, Captain of the USS Enterprise.”

 

_“…”_

 

Sudden static interference and low sound of a crash erupted in his left ear. Mr. Dhar became mute. There were deep raspy breaths on the other line that worried him. No words.

 

“Hello?” Jim said urgently. “Are you there?”

 

 _“Hello. May I ask who this is?”_ Another younger, smoother voice took over the line. Whoever this man was, it wasn’t Edmond Dhar.

 

“I was speaking to Mr. Dhar.”

 

_“Well this is Mr. Dhar … technically. I’m Gregory, his son. His clients are my clients. You can direct your queries to me.”_

It was no wonder that Jim didn’t recognize that voice. It belonged to the puzzling man that ignored every microphone shoved near his face with stoic expressions.

 

“Where is Mr. Dhar?” Jim asked.

 

_“A little indisposed at the moment. No worries, he will get back to you. Now, your name?”_

 

“James Tiberius – “

_“Kirk?”_   Gregory interrupted with a skeptical tone. _“As in Captain Kirk?”_

 

He had to stop himself from say ‘uhhh’ all the time. He was a Captain for Christ’s sake.

 

“Yes.” He affirmed.

 

_“Well … that explains a lot.”_

 

“What exactly does this explain?”

 

_“My father is an old man, you see. He doesn’t process shock as well as he used to.”_

 

“Oh…”

_“So when are you available to meet?”_

“You don’t even know why I called.”

 

_“We both know why you called. Is tomorrow at 0830 amenable for you?”_

 

Jim knew he was supposed to catch up on his sleep, but until this mess was rectified; there was no sleep to be had. “Breakfast it is.”

 

_“We will send you the address.”_

“I trust that you will keep this confidential for now.”

_“Last thing we need is for any of us to get ambushed and the wrong information getting out, ruining our chances of success. Not only are we exceptionally good at retrieving the required intel, we are the ones who control it. It’ll be beneficial for both of us to keep quiet for now.”_

“Okay …”

_“I look forward to meeting you, Captain.”_

 


	46. INTERLUDE [SIM OPERATIVES]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is optional to read.  
> Not a part of the main plot.  
> Side story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea as to why I did this.  
> It's been itching in my mind for the longest time.  
> This is a story focused on the SIM operatives that conducted Spock and Kirk's program.  
> You're already familiar with one member. The others may or may not pop up time to time in the rest of the story.
> 
> This can be skipped. You won't be lost at all.  
> No worries there.
> 
> This is Ensign Birney's POV
> 
> Warning: The OC with the potty mouth.
> 
> Song: Quicksand by Feenixpawl
> 
> Enjoy?
> 
> ~X
> 
> PS - I shrunk the dividers to accommodate mobile readers. Sorry for that. I had no idea it was so big on the phone.

** SIM OPERATIVES - INTERLUDE **

Commander Tinibu was standing in the middle of the SIMULATION Operation facility, holding a PADD behind his back. All eight screens that encircled the walls of the room were flashing white. This was nothing like the three in the Admiral's room and Med room. Ensign Birney would know. She stole a peek.

The old burgundy scar, the one that traveled down Tinibu's dark bronzed right cheek, the one that became brighter from the white reflections, always intimidated Birney.

It was another day, and she just got assigned another SIM. To see Tinibu again was something she should have been used to, since the man was head of all teams, on every shift. Honestly, she wondered how the man was standing on his own two feet without the support of a chair or a wall. Even Lieutenant Lyn took time to sleep.

Yes, Tinibu intimidated her at times.

Both of them remained silent in the room, uselessly staring at the other until the rest began to enter. She heard the weird shuffling from her right and she turned, alert.

Lieutenant Commander Weston fixed his glasses and crossed his thin arms. It wasn't a secret that Captain Gerald was vetting him for his transfer to the USS Xīwàng. His SIM was already complete. It was simple, just like the new formula should have been, and all objectives were met.

Birney cast him a quick glance, confused as to why this man was here. She never worked with him before, only knowing him my reputation and seeing him in passing after a completion of a SIM. Weston was quiet and sort of uptight if she had any say. All she knew with certainty was that Weston had a permanent frown.

Soon, there was a low whistle to her left and her shoulders automatically tensed in response. Lieutenant Felicity was one tough, mean officer. Birney knew because Felicity used to be one of her professors.

Fantastic.

"I look forward to working with you, Ms. Birney." Felicity wickedly smiled as she fixed a dangling loose strand from her tight jet black bun.

Lies.

All of it.

Birney once heard that Felicity would be a guest professor for some of the core classes in South Africa next semester. For the sanity of this Starfleet Academy's future cadets, she hoped so.

Suddenly, there was a blaring sound. It took a few beats to discover that it was apparently supposed to be music. It set every muscle on edge. There was only one person that noise could belong to.

"Yooo, who's ready for another kickass SIM?!"

Everyone, including Felicity, shut their eyes and groaned like reprimanded school children. Birney had the unfortunate circumstance of working alongside this buffoon before.

"Ayye, I'm not the first one this time!" The unwelcomed guest yelled. "Hey, Birney!"

"Hi." She muttered under her breath

It earned a mope from Tsuzuki. "You need more enthusiasm in your life."

"And you need to turn off that racket you call music, and address us with some respect, Ensign Tsuzuki." Tinibu barked with a brow raised to his perfectly cut hairline. "If it weren't for your numbers, you wouldn't be here."

"I get great numbers 'cause I'm always alert, Commander." Tsuzuki grinned all stupid and proud. "Sleep is for the weak."

"You're a drug addict." Weston declared like he was talking about the color of the sky.

"First of all – " Tsuzuki raised a finger, ready to defend himself. "Caffeine isn't a drug."

It was then that Birney discerned what the bag Tsuzuki brought in contained. At least this buffoon would help her on the sleeping front.

"Where's Lieutenant Barceló?" Tsuzuki questioned the group. "This is SIM 9273SK… shit, what was the rest?"

Birney answered with a bitter sigh. "91720." She didn't want to be stuck hours with this man. Maybe the SIM would be a short one. She could be in her bed by tomorrow, and then check on her father.

"Lieutenant Barceló won't be joining us for this SIM, or any others. Again."

Felicity tsked, and Weston remained unfazed. Birney on the other hand, well she was annoyed. There was only one way to get removed from an assigned SIM, and that was to fail the lie-detector test.

"He told someone, didn't he?" Tsuzuki sharply exhaled, adjusting the bag on his back. "I told him not to. Fuck."

Tinibu nodded in agreement. "Lieutenant Barceló decided it would be best to ignore our one and only rule."

Birney instantly realized that Barceló was going to be made an example of. The man had a heart of gold, so if he confessed to anyone, it was probably to get the weight off his chest. It was pitiful, because there were SIM operatives that were happy to lend an open ear.

Not Birney, 'cause she had other stuff to deal with, but Tsuzuki was a good friend. Sort of.

"Commander," Weston began, "Shouldn't we begin?"

It was a reasonable question. Tinibu seemed slightly on edge and was clearly stalling.

"This program, like all the others, will be held with high importance. But unlike the others, there will be no shift changes. This right here, this is all we have."

Birney gulped. The seriousness of the aura around them weighed a ton.

"This, my friends, will be a _dual_ SIM." Tinibu finished.

"Captain and First Officer." Felicity whispered. "Commander, I insist that we have another set. We can't be fully efficient if we don't get rest."

"Your concerns have been considered, however Barceló demolished any chances of that. Instead, Lieutenant Lyn and I will help during all our free time. This is not torture. Sleep will be sparse, but you will have your breaks per regulation."

Birney cleared her throat. "Which command team is this then? I heard the USS Antigone had yet to be complete with eighty percent of their crew still without grades. So is this Captain Tucker and Commander Sawyer's SIM?"

Felicity pondered aloud. "The USS Xīwàng is complete, and if not the Antigone, then is it the Enterprise? They're complete by thirty-eight percent. The USS Bradbury and USS Xavier SIMs haven't even started yet, so …"

"Shit. Commander Spock and Captain Kirk?" Tsuzuki deduced with a hiss.

The way Tsuzuki said it was exactly the tone ringing in Birney's head.

"Correct." Tinibu monotonously confirmed.

Tsuzuki gulped. "Well, fuck me."

Birney concurred.

There was complete silence as Tinibu informed them of the material gathered so far during the first stages of the officers in stasis. Lieutenant Lyn went on the line and explained that naturally, there's will be more complicated.

What has currently been assembled shouldn't cause any excessive worry, she said.

Tinibu paced along the room as white text danced across the screens. "Everyone here is familiar with the SIM alteration regarding telepathic and empathetic species."

They all exchanged concerned glances as they took their designated seats.

"Also, each and every one of you have been assigned a SIM that nearly reached the maximum."

"The maximum?" Tsuzuki raised his hands in full surrender. "Dude, twenty-one days was enough for me. I can't do an actual max."

"It is unfortunate that you do not have a choice then."

Tsuzuki inched back in his seat with a dry swallow before turning around to face his terminal, shielding his flushed face.

**.**

**.**

**.**

When Tinibu took his leave, all four of them cracked their knuckles and commenced the formation of the SIM world. All of them elaborated on Lyn's file. It wasn't long until Tsuzuki blasted his Red Hot Chili Peppers whilst tapping his feet.

"Your classical music isn't something I would recommend in any work environment." Weston urged as he watched Commander Spock's mind overlap any influence that belonged to Kirk.

Kirk's presence dropped to fifteen percent, and was decreasing as they spoke.

"This is my workplace too." Tsuzuki grumbled as he placed a can on his consul. Liquids near equipment were against every rule.

Birney analyzed the data as fast as she could, considering that there wasn't much time left. Dual SIMs were always the most challenging.

Extract one thought that spikes the most brain activity from each person, discover their likes and dislikes and implement them in a SIM world that they had to forge together from two separate consciousness'.

It was complicated and her fingers started to cramp.

"I wonder what a Vulcan's scared of."

"Probably people like you." Weston commented like Tsuzuki was the dirt under his foot.

Birney laughed for the first time in weeks.

**.**

**.**

**.**

"What the hell is this?"

One would think that Tsuzuki blurted that out, but it was in fact Felicity. She jerked up from her seat and shook her hands as if her station burned her skin. Three heads turned to her screen and watched colors of every shade dance and swirl all over.

"Why do you feel inclined to show us your screensaver?" Weston squinted his eyes, the colors reflecting off his lenses.

Felicity snapped her lips. Birney concluded that the lights were not a screensaver.

"We can't allow the Commander's conscious to take precedence. We have to decrease his influence drastically." Felicity said. "After what he's been through, just ... no."

"That's from Spock? I thought it was Kirk. I know he's fond of rainbows, but I don't think that's necessary." Birney tilted her head in confusion. "We shouldn't use this … wait, what is this anyways?"

Felicity sucked in her thin lips. "… It's death."

**.**

**.**

**.**

The four of them continued their search down the illuminating tunnel. It had walls that whispered words of hatred. They called it the 'tunnel of terror', and what they found did little to help them.

"I'm going through their most recent thoughts and they all consist of death."

"Despair."

"Not worthy."

"I went down further, and I still see … well, what do you know, death!"

"Death here."

"Burden."

"Toleration."

"No acceptance."

"Loss."

"Sacrifice."

Birney was so close to starting her first break. "What happened to the normal stuff, like a lack of romance? Being overweight? Falling from the sky? Drowning? Fire? Never getting the job? Divorce? Kids? No Kids? Disease? Evil scientists? I don't know, but this is weighing too much on me, my shoulders might crack and we've barely begun."

"Did they watch a lot of apocalyptic movies or something?" Tsuzuki shrugged with pursed lips. "Because all I see is death with these two. Like annihilation type stuff - Cataclysmic shit."

… Here's the thing. Birney and the rest understood exactly why.

"Kick Spock's mind out of the SIM." Weston immediately ordered.

"But – "

"Just do it."

After decreasing Spock's influence to eight percent, Tinibu called and informed them that in order for a dual SIM to be viable, the least dominant had be thirty percent.

After much argument, Kirk took over by only seventy percent. Somehow, the lights still danced across their screens, engulfing them in all the colors in its deepest saturation.

It failed, and they didn't how to deal with failure.

Birney wiped her face and walked back to her seat. "Alien invasions are always pretty."

**.**

**.**

**.**

When Tinibu called them again, they all explained their progress.

"Memory manipulation is a success."

"Success for me too."

"Same here."

"I'm good."

Tinibu cocked his head as if surprised. His projection did a subtle excuse for a smile prior to vanishing.

Felicity blew out a gust of air after another hour of work. "I've been thinking. Kirk's the more prominent one, and yet we still have this scenario. Why?"

"We thought drastically decreasing Spock's influence would help. But hot damn, the Captain has one twisted noodle." Tsuzuki twirled in his seat and began eating his crackers.

"All Vulcans should be excluded, solely on the fact of what happened to their planet." Felicity said.

"Right … the whole ' _kaboom'_ thing."

Weston instantly turned to Tsuzuki. "Their planet imploded, you insensitive excuse of a person."

**.**

**.**

**.**

"We made the Captain a simple civilian, and yet – "

Tsuzuki chewed on another cracker. "He's kicking ass."

"His tactics are carefully thought out." Weston added. "He remained skeptical, unlike billions."

So far, the Captain hid in his closet for two days and took to sealing his basement with every morning. Kirk had all he required in this space, already prepared for what was to come.

Kirk took to syncing all the news segments into his recorder. They were all perplexed as to the purpose of this, but their queries were answered once the Captain spontaneously fell with a thud.

Weston slammed his consul. "Lieutenant Lyn, what is going on?"

_"As you may all know, Captain Kirk has sustained injuries and is currently in his late stages of recovery."_

"And?" Birney blurted out.

 _"As a condition to his medical clearance, the Admirals would like to observe Kirk in a medical worst case scenario."_ Lyn declared. _"After all, he's entrusted with a ship of four-hundred and thirty-two officers and will debark into uncharted space."_

Birney pulled up Kirk's information – she then noticed the modifications. She snapped at Weston to look at the screen.

"How are we supposed to work together if you change things without informing us?" Weston said to Lyn.

_"I did."_

"When?"

_"Just now."_

The line ended, and they watched the Captain tremble in one screen, and wake up alone in the other.

Tsuzuki forwarded the days and watched it all happen again and again. This was definitely not a one-time occurrence. "They just made the Captain a fucking epileptic."

**.**

**.**

**.**

"Man, I made one really annoying president." Tsuzuki leaned into his seat and watched the crumbling world in front of him.

Felicity tsked. "World leaders leave much to be desired in every apocalyptic scenario."

"But Kirk expected it. He never believed a word."

"But Spock did."

"He's Vulcan. He comes from a civilization that deems lying illogical. He wouldn't understand why a world leader would do it." Birney informed.

"To decrease panic, obviously." Felicity said as if there wasn't another answer. She was correct in her assumptions though …

"Spock never considered that we would act illogically, hence his confusion of the lies." Weston added. "Truthfully, I doubt he's traveled much – always remaining in Starfleet heavy-influenced environments."

Tsuzuki chuckled at that. "'Cause if he did, he would know that we tend to smash windows, steal and burn shit for our convenience."

"He sure knows of the deceit now. Just look at him." Weston pointed to the Commander sleeping in a sealed hovercraft.

"He's exhausted." Birney cringed at the sight. "He needs sleep."

"Vulcans don't require as much sleep as us." Weston rolled his seat to the other side and started to deal with the random add-ons that started to bang on Jim's home door.

"He's not invincible." Birney barked back. "I heard that Vulcans really need to meditate. It's like brushing teeth to them. The new cadets do it all the time."

"He'll be fine." Weston typed away. "And Tsuzuki, why are all your add-ons so violent?"

"Dude." Tsuzuki took out one can of soda and flicked it open. "It's the end of the world. I know we're all advanced and stuff, but deep down, we humans are just bottled up disappointments. Plus, blame Kirk for this. I'm just trying to keep it steady."

Felicity stopped her typing. "Your morbid thoughts are not welcome, ensign."

"Don't pull 'rank' with me when we lived together during our last SIM assignment. We're SIM siblings now, held together by poisonous secrecy. You all need me, otherwise you'd end up like Barceló."

Birney ached a bit, because the buffoon was kind of right.

Kind of.

**.**

**.**

**.**

"Aliens are starting to get killed for no reason, yo." Tsuzuki muttered. "I sense something a brewin'. It's like these idiots all assume that all aliens are pals. Like they don't have their own planets and cultures. Seriously, what the fuck?"

"This is all Spock." Felicity frowned. "Kirk abhors the chase, but it turns out, Spock is the one being chased … Weston? Why do you have biblical quotes all over your screen?"

Weston responded without looking away. "I read this interesting article, regarding World War III, and the 'tainted ones' ."

Birney was knowledgeable of the history, but didn't know where Weston was steering the conversation. "Are you talking about the executions of those poisoned by radiation from the final nuclear attacks?"

"Exactly." Weston concurred. "The soldiers were led by Chancellor Jenson the Third. His followers grew exceptionally fast."

"He called it a purification." Felicity interjected.

"Now … considering history, what do we tend to do when desperation looms over? When death, poverty and sadness are all people see?"

"We gather." Birney answered. "We antagonize the few. The different."

Tsuzuki narrowed his eyes. "What does that dead, evil ass, delusional man have to do with anything?"

"Well … he used religion as a weapon."

"Lieutenant Commander Weston!" Felicity shook her head, her obvious distaste for this sinking through. "Don't screw with God's name."

"It's the only way. " Weston actually sounded sympathetic, which was odd since he never cared for faith. "Would you prefer if I utilize another religion? Any one of them could work, because it's not the religion. It's always the people -"

"The point would still remain!" Felicity retorted with squared shoulders. "How do you know your goal will prove successful? An add-on can interpret religion however it likes."

"Exclude the good, of course. My mind is set." Weston commenced the downloading. "Apply this formula to hundreds of add-ons, and … done."

It wasn't long until the leader showed up, covered in beige clothing, his body profile circulating on the screen. The beige reminded Birney of wool.

Sheep's clothing.

How fitting.

"In the first stage, Kirk's worry was being deemed unworthy. I literally heard it echo from his subconscious." Weston mentioned.

"Same for Spock." Birney added, remembering her previous data. "But it was more figurative with him."

"Exactly, so here is the one add-on they need to conquer to complete all objectives. Including the ones in Round Four. I present to you, 'The Leader.'"

It was genius. There would be no need to create more senseless add-ons in this round. Only one extremely complex one that would lead the rest, until the team implemented more of their detailed ones - and those were currently loading.

Tsuzuki raked his fingers though his buzz cut. "Cliché, if you ask me."

Birney was disturbed. "False prophets. Sad to say, it's effective."

"Disgusting." Felicity snarled.

Why did Kirk and Spock resort them to this?

Why was this in their minds at all?

**.**

**.**

**.**

"What do you think Spock's going to do?" Felicity stood up with her water bottle, her bun unraveled. She had her hand on Birney's shoulder as they watched Spock confronted by a faction of Federation species.

"He should join. It would be safer in the long run." She sadly admitted. "He's not invincible. Then again, I think he would get a FAIL if he did."

"He's half-human. I'm sure he would consider this move an insult to that portion of him." Felicity disagreed.

"But Kirk sold out." Tsuzuki accused. "Why doesn't he get a FAIL?"

"Salvatus only preaches. Kirk is not yet aware that they're murderers." Weston concluded. "And these aliens here have sacrificed humans for no reason. It's a killing spree up there."

"And we don't deserve it?" Tsuzuki stood up from his seat, and pointed to the one screen they were all glued to. "Look what we do to them? We burn them like it's the damn witch trials!"

"Not us. The add-ons." Weston reminded the ensign. "Besides, this group has killed innocent people who only needed food. Their trust in humanity has become obsolete, I get that, but this isn't allowed. Spock can't make the same decision as Kirk."

**.**

**.**

**.**

_["I have decided."_

_"And what do you choose, Spock?"_

_"I choose to continue my travels alone."_

_"They will burn you."_

_"Then I will burn."_

_"And why have you chosen suicide over your people?"_

_"If you were to solely provide shelter, and provide protection, then I would join. I would aid in every way possible. Except, what I see, what I witness here today, is an army set on senseless murder."_

_"What you call senseless murder is what we call survival."_

_"You have all become as deluded as them. I will not resort to this. I cannot. If I do, then all my efforts of survival would be in vain, for I am already dead."_

_"You are siding with the humans."_

_"And will you deem me a 'sympathizer'?"_

_"…"_

_"Exactly."]_

**_._ **

**_._ **

**_._ **

Tsuzuki opened another can and plopped in his seat. "Someone transfer me to the Enterprise."

"You've conducted most of their SIMs so far. Your time up there would be very … inconvenient." Felicity forewarned.

"Five years of awkwardness, buffoon." Birney smirked. "I don't think you could even do that?"

"I want to be on the Enterprise." Tsuzuki stubbornly replied. His mind was set. "If any one of you conduct my SIM, rig the shit so I'm compatible with them. That man up there is the closest thing we have to Jesus."

Birney would warn Captain Kirk, and suggest that he muzzle the ensign if it came to that.

**.**

**.**

**.**

"Does Kirk realize that Urain's talking about her wife's judgment?" Felicity asked after she stole a can from Tsuzuki. She was tense and waiting for the food to be delivered to them. They were taking too long. They were reaching their fifth day, and they were itching to leave.

"He thinks she got killed by the lights." Birney observed. "If only he knew …" Kirk's obliviousness was something that hurt her heart.

"We eliminated all possibilities of xenophobic behavior from Commander Spock." Weston said as he cancelled a window, and rolled to another screen where their main add-ons were being created. "We received order to do the same with Kirk, so we can complete Round One faster."

"So we make Salvatus go ape shit?" Tsuzuki snorted.

"Precisely."

Birney choked on her cracker. "He was just joking!"

"How do we do that, exactly? They're not even dangerous. They all just listen to this idiot, which is exactly how we made them. All simple minded and took seconds to create."

"We are to eliminate a main add-on from Salvatus."

"Gigi?" Tsuzuki yelped. "Cause I hate her. She's my creation, and I _hate_ her!"

Weston glanced at all of them, then back on the screen of the Salvatus members sitting in a circle, listening to their leader. He pointed to the one female sitting next to Kirk.

"Urain."

Birney saw Felicity cover her nostrils as the carbonated drink regurgitated in her oral cavity. "She's mine!"

"She's terminated."

**["Judge her!"]**

**.**

**.**

**.**

"Do something!" Felicity screamed at Weston as the sweaty officer slammed button after button.

"This is all Tsuzuki's fault." Weston grumbled as he searched for a solution out of this mess. "We should have distracted the add-ons. Spock's vulnerable, and there's too many."

"I was busy with Kirk! He fell again and the intervals are always at random." Tsuzuki jibed. "This wouldn't be happening if we had someone to replace Barceló!"

Lieutenant Lyn was on the line, echoing Felicity's words. _"Do something. Commander Spock cannot finish his SIM this early."_

"We know!" They all yelled back, not caring for manners as they worked to provide the add-ons a distraction. Spock was in an abandoned hovercraft, unable to leave.

When the firecrackers sparked behind the buildings, Spock took his chance to escape and run.

"Run like the wind." Birney urged.

**.**

**.**

**.**

Birney barely blinked as she watched Kirk stare intently at one of the mannequins from the FG Market.

"He's calling this thing 'Bud' every time he visits."

"It's not a big deal. It's not like he's talking to a volleyball. I saw that once." Felicity said, perking up her brows when she noticed Kirk beginning to draw circles on its cheeks. "He may as well take the blasted thing home."

"He might …" It was obvious that Kirk favored the mannequin.

"It's obviously a girl." Tsuzuki mentioned as he dealt with Dr. Cardenas and the formation of the Warehouse.

"Male, ensign." Weston budded in, still working and still ignoring his food. He was fully immersed in the leader of Salvatus.

**.**

**.**

**.**

_["He is to be judged._

_He bleeds green. He is not like you and I."]_

"I'll solve this." Weston pushed through them, and settled on Birney's station.

"Don't cry on me now, Birney." Felicity squeezed the ensign's shoulder again. "You're more than your emotions."

"Please. Our emotions define us." Tsuzuki said as he worked to find a way for Spock to get out of this situation. "That's why too many Federation species make fun of us. We laugh when we want to cry. We don't make sense to even ourselves."

_["Rejoice! These illuminating weapons of our God will soon disappear. This thing is a sign of all the wrong that has swarmed over our planet, our home."]_

"The Commander's just letting them do this! Do something dammit!" Birney yelled at the screen. She cursed the add-ons. They weren't made to just walk away from this. Spock was the prime sacrifice, but she assumed Spock would fight harder.

"Imagine this like a movie. All movies have one unrealistic rescue scene." Weston said, motioning his hands on the screen to move one of their carefully constructed add-ons behind one of the trees and inside a functioning hovertruck.

_["You tell me that he's human. You tell me he's one of them._

_But I'm here to tell you exactly what he is._

_He is a walking, talking, blasphemous mistake."]_

"You stole my add-on." Tsuzuki complained. "But I guess he couldn't make a better debut."

_["Step away from your false gathering of justice, or I'll run over all of you - you disgrace for human beings."]_

And Terrence's debut was fit for the best of add-ons. Birney witnessed their friendship form fast. It was clear that Terrence held Spock in high regards after some time. Their bicker was entertaining to watch, so much that they didn't want to deal with the future on the screens behind them.

"You transferred your affections into your add-on." Weston tsked, returning to his station, rolling his shoulders. "Next time, refrain from including idol worship in your finalized formula. Last thing Commander Spock needs is some tedious love affair."

Tsuzuki wasn't the least bit ashamed. "He needs affection."

Felicity took a bite of her salad. One would consider it a healthy choice, if they ignored the four cans of energy drinks on her side, courtesy of Tsuzuki.

Birney noticed how Terrence gazed at Spock, and decided to get a throat burning drink as a result.

"Pass me one."

"I got infinite amounts, baby."

"Well baby, if the Commander falls for your add-on's bullshit, I will terminate him in seconds."

"You need approval to do that!"

"I'm not dealing with another incident." She gulped the contents of the can. She refused to go down this road again. "I'll deal with whatever's thrown at me."

**.**

**.**

**.**

The SIM became out of control on too many occasions. Kirk and Spock were fighting everything they fixed. It's like they wanted to fall down the cliff.

Felicity listened to Birney and informed Commander Tinibu to transfer their concerns. If there were some way to speed this up, then they would do it. As long as it was safe, they would do it.

"This SIM is defying every attempt at decreasing its severity." Tsuzuki let out an aggravated yell. "This is reaching draconian levels."

"It's like a piranha." Felicity tsked.

"It's not." Weston rubbed at his wrist. "Tinibu and Lyn didn't inform us that we were building on the original program. There aren't any restrictions, and our commands barely seep through."

The minds were given more power than anticipated. Birney should have known. They did this before.

Weston ordered them all to go through everything from scratch, including the sequences installed by Tinibu and Lyn – they didn't trust anyone, not anymore.

**.**

**.**

**.**

"Dr. McCoy!" Tsuzuki gritted his teeth as he feigned his cheeriness to the intimidating man. It was awkward since the ensign was part of the team that conducted McCoy's SIM. The doctor didn't know that, but it was tricky with Tsuzuki.

The officers taking the SIM always met the SIM medical team members, considering they slept around them and woke up with them present. The operative part of the equation was mainly kept anonymous to those that took the test. It wasn't because of a rule. It was because no one asked.

_"Commander Spock can't sleep. He's too paranoid because you idiots decided to get him almost killed again. Just when I think you couldn't up the game, you made it execution style this time!"_

"He's with a main add-on. He's safe, as long as he stays in rural areas, and away from the buildings."

_"Terrence won't do speck for Spock. How do I know Terrence won't shoot him in the back? Mr. Spock's wary of him too, so my skepticism is justified here!"_

"We have the perfect place for him." Birney mentioned. Lord knew that Spock needed a break. He just needed to sit tight for now. "And trust takes times. Logically, he knows that Terrence means well."

_"Who's that?"_

"Ensign Jessica Birney…"

_"Well, Ensign Birney – I don't believe you."_

That was unexpected.

"Looking forward to our chats, Doctor! Always pleasant." Tsuzuki ended the call, and then emptied out his lungs. "McCoy scares me."

"He scares us all." Felicity concurred.

**.**

**.**

**.**

Dr. Cardenas was holding Spock and Terrence at gunpoint. Considering that Weston had to download all medical facts into her person, he also took the leisure of making her a complete germaphobe, a strict Starfleet officer and one that hated being planetside.

Brilliant.

"You're a hypocrite, Weston." Felicity announced.

"How so?"

"She's like you."

Weston raised a brow and crossed his arms. "Barely."

**.**

**.**

**.**

"Why is Katherine reading 'Dr. Seuss'?" Felicity cringed at the drawings the add-on 'Katherine' presented to the kids.

"Because you can't go wrong with the classics." Birney smiled at another day well done. "The kids need all the good they can get."

"Birney?" Felicity rolled her stool to Birney's station. She whispered ever so slightly, "Sweety, they're not real."

Birney rested her head on her palm and slowly smiled. "Don't crush the illusion, teach."

"Fellow teammates in all things ethically wrong – " Tsuzuki called to them. "We have a problem."

Birney turned to him and asked what the problem was.

Weston was the one who answered, looking troubled as ever. "Who wants to play chess with Commander Spock?"

**.**

**.**

**.**

Ana and Markus were created as a duo, and had many of the same traits. It made sense that they complimented the other.

What they didn't expect was for them to kick Spock out of a room to screw like bunnies.

Felicity guffawed, "I could write romance novels with the way I'm going."

These small moments were worth it, considering the amount of work it took to make this place normal enough for Spock to never question it.

They wanted Spock happy inside it.

**.**

**.**

**.**

_["You are losing focus."_

_"Can you blame me, Chief?"]_

Birney could cut the tension in the gym with a knife. "I will kill you, Tsuzuki – then I will make it so no one finds your body."

"How was I supposed to know that Terrence would do this?" Tsuzuki actually sounded surprised that his add-on was throwing himself at Spock. "I thought it would be a little crush."

The add-on joined Spock in one of his training sessions and took complete advantage of Spock's kindness. He asked for a lesson and soon, he ended up laying on the mat, out of breath from the exercise, and not letting Spock escape from on top of him. He clung to Spock's shirt with a mischievous grin, motioning his hips up to meet Spock's.

"That pixilated whore." Birney hissed.

"And he doesn't need this right about now? Forget you, Birney!"

"Forget her? You're in the wrong here. Mr. Spock's now in an awkward situation. One that he'll never reciprocate. And you can't just assume he prefers males." Weston added, scoffing again.

Tsuzuki looked like he wanted to throw a can. "And I won't assume he only likes women either. Terrence is the only friend he has. Last I checked, friends are a great thing when the sky is falling. What's the harm in benefits?"

"Really?" Weston couldn't roll his eyes far back enough, "Either way, he obviously prefers one that bleeds green!"

"Well the Commander has to at least notice that your whore of an add-on is too young, Tsuzuki."

Felicity also sided with Birney. "Forget too young. You all do realize that in order for a Vulcan to have a fulfilling relationship with anyone, they need to merge the minds of both participants, at least on a minuscule level. Now how will that happen when Terrence's head is a syntax of numbers?"

_["Spock …"_

_"You are not in your right mind."_

_"I am, but are you? Spock, when was the last time you were even touched?"_

_"We should cease our actions, Terrence."_

_"Right… 'cause these are my actions and yours. Don't you want to be caressed, kissed and loved at all? We only have each other – "]_

Turns out Birney's worries were for nothing, because Spock left a panting Terrence on the ground and exited the gym with his clothes intact.

_["Fuck."]_

"I'm with you there, buddy boy." Tsuzuki muttered.

No one stopped Birney when she shoved Tsuzuki off his chair.

**.**

**.**

**.**

"Steven's a little shit." Tsuzuki challenged Weston.

"And I find Karim, and his incessant eating to be ridiculous." Weston eyed the ensign that approached him. "We could have done without him."

"Like we need any more Starfleet officers in this base. Anastasia and Clayton are just fine, thank you! We need interesting civilians."

Weston cocked his head up. "And you find an immature teenager an amenable choice?"

"He adds character! Kirk's going to need to bond with someone in there, and Karim is lovable."

"He causes trouble."

Birney watched the two add-ons chase the other, after Karim took over the Security room again without consent.

"I find them both annoying." Felicity said, making careful sure to not allow Savitra's wrath to be unleashed on them. In another setting, they could ignored this all and move it along, but Spock sat in the cafeteria, vacant.

Spock was thinking, and they all could deduce exactly what was on the Commander's mind. It was another day, and another failed attempt at meditation.

"He needs a hug." Tsuzuki blinked away from Weston's face.

"You know what …" Birney once again went into the add-on database and selected Savitra. "Let's give him that hug."

The Commander's face was priceless as he was embraced with all the emotion they could install.

**.**

**.**

**.**

"Captain Kirk's going to lose his teeth at this rate." Weston cringed as he witnessed the demolishment of another chocolate bar.

"It's the simple things." Tsuzuki pointed to Bud, which was now in Kirk's living room.

"He's still listening to those recordings. They're toxic." Felicity never liked those. "I could make it so it disappears. Kirk will believe he misplaced it."

"We can't. He needs them." Birney said.

"Why?"

"You can't tell? What would you think if you kept falling and hitting your head all the time?" The ensign asked.

"Concussion." Felicity answered.

"And memory loss."

Realization dawned on her former professor's oval face. "Oh."

"Yeah…"

When Kirk did another run to the store, they made sure that the Captain had everything he needed to not only live, but to enjoy. It was Birney's idea to add the treats to begin with.

Kirk eventually spotted the box of purple wrapped cans. The Captain took off his helmet and settled on the ground of the market.

When he opened one with a crackling sizzle, he motioned it up in the air to give cheers to nothing. Little did he know that there were others that joined him with their own cans in hand.

_["Cheers."]_

"Cheers." They replied in unison.

.

.

.

**\- ROUND ONE COMPLETE -**

For a couple minutes, they thought Commander Spock died. Tsuzuki was the one that panicked the most; adamant that they were all fired and would face severe consequences because of this. It took a call from M'Benga to calm them all down.

Birney scratched her head as she listened to the doctor explaining that Spock's brain was re-calibrating to enable telepathic functions.

Sometimes she wished that Spock and Kirk were add-ons. Too many complications in her opinion.

"Why are we allowing Markus and Ana to keep Captain Kirk hostage? There's a gun on each side of his face." Weston turned around and pointed to Tsuzuki.

"They can't put it down." Tsuzuki frowned.

Weston didn't care. "Do it."

"It wouldn't make sense!" Tsuzuki put both the soles of his palms on his temples, massaging the area. "They're loyal. Ana loves her weapons. Markus loves his weapons. They just happen to love the Commander. They can't just act all nice, especially when their Chief's injured."

"He fainted."

"They don't know that! For all they know, Kirk did that. They already thought he was an extremist to begin with!"

"I don't care. He's prisoner in his own home. The anxiety could make him seize again."

"It wouldn't be in character, dude!" Tsuzuki defied him. "Kirk isn't fazed anyways. Like look at him, man!"

"Your job is to create, to control and to oversee. You're a programmer, not a storyteller!" Weston's face was turning red with rage.

Felicity pinched the bridge of her nose. "The ensign has a point."

"Lieutenant – "

"They won't kill him." She added. "Just let it go."

**.**

**.**

**.**

_["Argumentative."_

_"Opinionated."_

_"Sexy."_

_"Eccentric."_

_"Now you're just going to get me hot and bothered."_

_"Are you naturally flirtatious in your behavior?"_

_"Only to you."]_

"Whoa." Felicity blinked at the screen, after she sent the add-ons to sleep on the other side of Kirk's home. She was in the middle of making sure that the tour in Warehouse 15 for Kirk was going well. It was unfortunate that the Captain fascinated the add-ons, causing such a hassle.

They called him Lightrunner.

"Wow." Birney followed with a can in hand, still watching Kirk and Spock conversing on the bed.

Tsuzuki snorted, a failed attempt to hold in his laughter. "Kirk just flirted with Jesus."

"That explains their dynamic in the base." Weston sighed. "I was wondering when that happened. This is too non-linear for my mind."

"This muddles things." Felicity said. "He could reciprocate. And cease the Jesus comments, Tsuzuki. Disrespectful."

Birney began to pace in the wide room, staring at all the different angles and times of the world they were stuck in. There was a moment when she saw Kirk and Spock eating breakfast under a tree. "This isn't happening under my watch."

"And why not? They're both lonely." Tsuzuki suggested. "I know sex might not be a big deal for you computers, but it is important to us normal people."

"We can't – " She pointed at the Captain that was caressing Spock's ears. "We can't _delete_ him. Don't you get it? If things go to shit, we can't delete him! They're supposed to be on their 'A' game to PASS."

"You're too invested." Weston tsked, paying it no mind.

"Of course I'm invested!" She took another gulp, ignoring all the eyes glued to her.

"You're jittery, and I should probably cut you off." Tsuzuki approached her, extending his arm to grab the half-full can. "I feel like your plug, and you ain't even paying me."

"I'm jittery and invested. You think this is a game? We don't get sleep. Those two have been sleeping for days, and sleep deprived - at the same time!" She knew she looked mad as she pointed to Spock and Kirk with her shaking finger. "We are all going through unpleasant times, and I won't apologize if I want the very men who saved all our pathetic asses to go on with their lives without complications. Love complicates, because it's love!"

"They could just be friends with benefits – " Tsuzuki stupidly interrupted, which resulted in all the staggering glares. He turned around when he noticed the instant silence, forgetting the can he was meant to steal back. "What?"

"He's Vulcan, you buffoon!"

**.**

**.**

**.**

_["His face is as thin as a rectangle. Her teeth are brittle, stained from the overuse of chemical sticks. Her hair is as white as her blood deprived nails. Her hair is as dark as mine and as light as yours. His beard is black and thick from years of ill grooming. His face is bare and smooth as a newborn. His skin resembles the ash on the ground as her pigment is identical to the rotten bark of a tree. Her eyes are of the ocean while her eyes are as dark as the abyss of those oceans and they – Should. All. Burn."]_

Birney and the rest halted in their work, and took a moment to witness the Captain of the USS Enterprise step back from Spock when the punching bag was kicked to the other side of the gym with abnormal ease.

"Well that was unsettling …" Weston pointed Kirk out. "Is it me, or did Kirk get scared?"

"And he doesn't scare you?!" Tsuzuki patted his shirt and announced that he was starting his break early. "Chief or not, Jesus or not, Surak or not, this man needs some slack. You think those alien groups just turned insane in one day? Granted, we made them like that, but we all know such a thing happens gradually, and Spock was this close to becoming the same. He's not special. He's tainted too."

Weston never took his eyes off the heavily panting Commander. "We all are."

Birney remembered her dad, and how he detested strangers that walked his way. His ability to trust was demolished, and she hoped that Spock wouldn't suffer the same in the real world.

**.**

**_._ **

**_._ **

Kirk and Spock's compatibility scores were well enough to not cause worry. All four of them desired for them to PASS without problems, but also wanted them to remain together. Kirk integrated within the base just as expected and things were going smoothly for now.

The add-ons would act naturally as expected, and Spock and Kirk had no reason to do anything out of the ordinary.

When Lyn and Tinibu entered the room and declared that they would take over, all were hesitant to take this break. Although their bosses asked them to leave, they heard the underlying order.

Per regulation, they had to take a full day off on the side of their breaks.

They would have been delighted to … but they didn't trust these two. Not one bit.

"My deprived eyes are not prepared for this sunshine." Weston said as he cleaned his lenses. "I don't know if I'm just tired or fully nocturnal."

"My house is the closest." Felicity mentioned. "We can all sleep there, so that none of you guys are forced to travel far. My treat."

"Starfleet issued beds are either too flat or too soft." Tsuzuki complained. "And if I walk out of my shower to see another person pissing a few feet down, I'll crack."

"Can I use your scented soaps? I want to smell like flowers again." Birney mumbled, while leaning her head on Felicity. She stopped her attempts at being the perfectly mannered ensign. She was just tired.

"I'll make tea. We need real drinks, instead of ones that make us shake." Weston offered with a yawn.

Felicity nodded. "It seems that we'll have a sleep-over."

**.**

**.**

**.**

The four of them sat in a circle on Felicity's living room floor. They drank their tea and ate their home-cooked meal with damp hair.

They just turned off the holo-screen, leaving Varra's face to burn in the back of their skulls. They shouldn't have watched that.

They were meant to take a break from work, however work was all they could think about. It was all the world was talking about.

"Guys." Birney whispered. "We're horrible, horrible people."

Tsuzuki arose to get a second helping of hot pasta. "We left Kirk and Spock to fight glowing weapons."

"But they're safe in the base." Weston said, a hint of hesitancy in his words.

"Yeah, but you don't see Dr. McCoy leaving, do ya? I bet my whole account that he's falsifying his log." Tsuzuki grumbled, twirling the green tea in his mug. "I saw Dr. M'Benga shaving in the restroom recently. He could have done that at home, but I don't think he's going home either."

"Lenny told me that Dr. Kim and Dr. Lee did one shift change." Birney added. She knew Lenny through the SIM programs, and she wasn't surprised to hear that he was assigned to this. Lenny was one of the best out there and spoke highly of Dr. M'Benga.

Felicity flicked her comm open. "Tinibu said it's been two days for them, reaching on three. No issues so far."

"There shouldn't be any issues. We pulled the weight." Birney wanted to roll her eyes, but they were so dry.

"Right …"

"You should call your mothers." Felicity randomly suggested. "I did."

"It got to you too?"

"How could it not?" Felicity moved a damp strand of hair from her face. "Kirk never once attempted to return to Iowa, hence his belief that his mother perished in the first attacks."

"And Spock can't contact his mother." Birney rested her head on Felicity's shoulder again. When the woman became approachable, she would never know. "… And we know she perished in this reality."

"I think my Captain's going to visit his mom soon." Tsuzuki said.

"Captain Gerald?" Weston asked.

"Yeah." Tsuzuki shrugged, "Can't blame him."

Birney sighed, her whole posture deflating. "Guys. We're horrible, horrible people."

Surprisingly, Weston agreed. He placed his glasses down and rubbed his eyes. "It was a simple assignment. It was never meant to be like this."

**.**

**.**

**.**

They were hitting day sixteen when they returned. Birney's new motto was, 'Expect Spock and Kirk to get into some shit.'

"Your add-ons won't let Spock enter sickbay." And Birney questioned how this came to be.

"Give me a moment." Tsuzuki responded as he chucked his stuff on the ground and got to work.

None of them had time to read the recent reports. Instead, they were dealing with someone who wanted to rip their creations' head off.

_["Move."_

_"We can't allow that, Chief. He just went back to sleep."_

_"Then I will remain inside until Jim wakes up."_

_"Dr. Cardenas won't approve, man."_

_"I do not require approval from any one of you."]_

Lieutenant Lyn remained and spoke of what has transpired as they endlessly worked to make sure Karim remained inside the base and that the Salvatus members never discovered the base. Because then, there would be no stopping them.

It was too early for Round Four.

"He fixed the generator…" Weston said with astonishment.

"Steven's the best!"

"Steven's a fool. He almost got the Captain killed!" Weston barked. "Him and his stupid ancient music, with his stupid sentimentality and tendency to just be overall reckless and sneaky. You ruined my add-on, Tsuzuki."

Birney didn't know whom to agree with. That was until Lieutenant Lyn informed them that the power failure would have happened within days, instead of the calculated year.

"And why on Earth would we do that?" Felicity's expression contorted by Lyn's words.

"Because it's what you're told to do." Lyn answered.

The air became more tolerable when Lyn took her leave.

It wasn't long until Weston took manual control to converse with Spock through Dr. Cardenas. He convinced Spock to leave, as to not stress out Lightrunner with his growing worry, which was so clearly coated with his not-so-subtle agitation.

Tsuzuki groaned, irked that Spock was punishing an awoken Steven soon after, instilling all those restrictions and lecturing for hours. Spock had the kind of presence that could make one reevaluate the purpose of their existence.

"You can skip this." Birney nudged him.

Tsuzuki slammed his consul. "Fine."

**.**

**.**

**.**

**\- ROUND TWO COMPLETE -**

The second they discovered that Round Three was eliminated completely, Tsuzuki started to pack.

It was Felicity that marched to block the door in wide struts. "Ensign Tsuzuki!"

"Don't 'ensign' me, Lieutenant Felicity. I'm not with this shit. I'm not!"

"Hey, we're a team." Birney got up as well, hoping that Katherine was introducing Kirk to the Don Quixote book by now. "You can't just leave here. You signed a contract, so unless you get sick - "

"Well tell them I fell ill from a sad case of 'fed up'!"

"Tsuzuki – "

"No. I was selected for this task because to put it simply, I'm observant as hell. I know where things fit. I know when things are about to fuck up. I'm an attentive reader. I like stories when done right. You all needed me for that, but no one is listening, rendering my presence redundant. These men are not prepared for Round Four."

"We know." Felicity sympathized.

"Then why are we listening to Tinibu? Why are we listening to Lyn? Why are we listening to those stuck up Admirals? I swear, let me have at their brains in this room and see if they'll make it. With their age and experiences, who knows what dark memories they'll revisit. I can't wait, but it won't happen. They're punks that don't care for us! We're going to be next, you guys! This right here, this isn't what I signed up for. So in the words of Gandhi Spock - I will not resort to this, for I am already dead."

**.**

**.**

**.**

It took a lot of convincing to bring Tsuzuki back into the room. He may have had his flaws, but Birney understood that Starfleet took all his passions and mutated it into a weapon. She wasn't sure if he would go back to programming or if he would read a book ever again.

But right now, he understood that they had to make the best of this.

"Here's what's going to happen." Felicity addressed them during their break. "Every loophole thrown our way, we go out of our way to find a loophole within it. We owe them at least that. Agreed?"

"Aye."

"Yes, ma'am."

**.**

**.**

**.**

Birney sighed with immense relief when she discovered that Spock could meditate again.

"And you thought a relationship would've been toxic." Tsuzuki rubbed it in.

"I had no idea, okay?" She really didn't. Now her new objective was to make sure that they not only passed, but that they would find as much happiness as they could.

"We should throw a party?"

"Now you're imagining things."

"Optimism is key."

It was common that if Tsuzuki said the dumbest to the simplest of things, Weston would respond with an eye-roll. "Optimism gets one killed."

"And look where that got you, Mr. I Mope 'Round All Day."

Birney and Felicity slouched and blamed the ensign when Terrence's attitude got worse that day.

"Stop looking at me like that. Terrence won't hurt a soul."

"But you didn't have to make him a grade 'A' bitch." Birney turned back to her station and mentally prepared herself for this shit storm of a round.

"Make sure the lights shine in consistent intervals, teach."

"You kidding me, ensign? It's done."

**.**

**.**

**.**

Tsuzuki chucked a cracker at Weston after the man planted the idea of running away into Karim's mind. "You fucking suck for that."

"I thought we had to keep in character? What's better than a reckless, moody teenager, conducting his own plan against all orders from Spock?"

"You could have chosen someone else."

Weston didn't agree. "Karim's perfect. The Commander and Captain are invested in him."

"Because he's my _masterpiece_!"

"I couldn't risk another add-on. They might be logical and then force us to take more severe measures to begin Round Four." Weston was not interested in going down that path.

Their bickering was the last thing Birney needed. "Honestly, I don't think it would have mattered which one you chose, their decision would be the same." Birney commented. "From what I heard, they don't leave people behind."

"You're talking about the command team. We don't know what these men are capable of." Felicity zoomed into Spock's face for emphasis. "This is the Chief. See the hair? The edgier clothing? The overall, ' _I would kill you if you speak to me'_ look?"

"But – "

Then Felicity zoomed into Kirk's face for further emphasis. "This is the Lightrunner. Notice his beard? His more submissive role? His cynicism?"

Weston smirked during Felicity's elaboration to his point. "And Chief and Lightrunner are part of council. They have two other people to consider before a decision is made. Who's better than Karim? Honestly."

Tsuzuki was still skeptical. "This whole _'they're not a command team'_ is bullshit. Kirk's opinions will be held in high regard, dude. "

"Only if Spock is already thinking the same." Weston shook his head. "You forget. Kirk's not Captain anymore."

**.**

**.**

**.**

"Shit talking son of a hyena." Tsuzuki wiped his face and left the room to breathe. The leader just chucked Karim into a small space, and left him there to use him as a chess piece in this chaotic game.

"We added a lot of add-ons to the new and improved Salvatus. They're currently deciding on who to send the message." Felicity informed.

"Gigi. Definitely her. Kirk will recognize here." Birney suggested.

Suddenly, a phaser was added to the add-on's hip. It took them a few seconds to find out where it originated.

"What're you doing, teach?" Birney turned around to the source.

"I have a plan." She replied, fully absorbed in the add-on's actions.

"And what might that be – "

She raised a quick brow at that. "It'll be one that gets them a PASS."

"I mean, with all that's happened, the scores are in their favor. They really don't need us, since they're doing so well by themselves. Kirk has discovered that the lights' are weapons. They're passing expectations."

"But Round Four is imperative. I'm not having them FAIL now."

"So … What're you going to do?"

"Keep them together. Literally."

**.**

**.**

**.**

All screens were muted, leaving one voice to resonate through them. This ... this was not what they expected.

_["They have not only kidnapped one of our own, but they have categorized us as sympathizers and because of this, we do not deserve life, let alone peace. This assembly calls themselves Camp Salvatus – a blaring sign of their delusion. They deem themselves a salvation when they sit on thrones built from the burnt bones of innocents!"]_

Birney shared her chocolate bars, and they all took a bite, wishing the Warehouse luck.

"Martin Luther King, Jr. Spock is something." Tsuzuki admired. "Can I keep this? Please?"

"No!"

.

.

.

Just when they assumed that the round would go into all out war, Kirk and Spock created a plan that would result in fewer casualties on their side, if any.

Markus' howl was like a warm blanket that wrapped around them, as the add-on twirled in the middle of the lights.

Birney wanted Kirk and Spock to enjoy the new freedom of the night, except the command team knew they had work to do. She wished she could tell them to enjoy it while they still could.

"It's time for your break, Weston."

The Lieutenant Commander never responded, sucked into the view of Kirk, Spock and their add-on running in their new deliverance.

**.**

**.**

**.**

Then there was a setback that consisted of rainbow ribbons and sand. Bullets pierced the windows of Salvatus' temporary base.

"This is a massacre." Weston's jaw dropped. "I knew Markus was too risky an add-on."

"I actually agree. But hey, this is a good thing." Tsuzuki implied. "He didn't need Kirk's suggestion anyhow either."

"But the fact that Kirk suggested it, speaks about the kind of person he is. Markus is an add-on, but Kirk … Kirk is a person."

"He lived with them. He knows exactly what would have happened. We know they would have come with everything in stow and attempted to murder all of Warehouse 15."

Weston stuttered. "But – "

"No 'buts' – I would rather have all of them dead, instead of half of Warehouse 15, who in fact aren't bloodthirsty apes. They're genuine and a symbol of what Earth has lost in general. So excuse me for not feeling sorry for 'em."

"You can say that because you know they're not people. That's like saying what Captain Gerald did was right. These actions could potentially be real in their future."

"Then so it'll be. They were stuck, and we couldn't find a way out for them. He used his own mind to get out of it."

"It was _despicable_."

"Well his despicable actions got him a _PASS_. Clearly, Starfleet approves."

Birney decided to walk into the corner and settle her pillow right below her head. A few minutes nap couldn't hurt.

"You can't sleep now, Birney."

She heard Weston bark at her, but she couldn't respond. Luckily, Felicity told them to stop bothering her.

"She can't watch this."

"Then skip it."

"We can't, and you know that."

**.**

**.**

**.**

Gigi was right across from Spock, and he was carrying Kirk in arms. She pointed the phaser in their direction.

"She set the phaser to kill!" Tsuzuki yelled after a quick scan. "I hate that all our changes keep screwing up here. It's like they want to die."

"Set it back to stun then." Felicity urged him to correct it as soon as possible. "And make sure she gets them both."

"Are we sure about this?"

"We can't allow only one of them be taken. I'm not confident on what they'll do, so follow the plan and make sure they get into the center of Round Four together, or so help me God – "

The shots were fired and the Commander fell to the ground with a thud.

**.**

**.**

**.**

Tinibu's voice echoed on each wall, and bounced off all the screens, right into their eardrums.

_"Lieutenant Felicity!"_

For the first time, Birney saw her professor flinch.

"Yes, sir?"

"Are you at fault for what has transpired during Round Four?"

"It's complicated, sir. The add-on 'Gigi' has … malfunctioned. She had trouble reaching her destination in a timely manner."

She was meant to stun Spock before he had the opportunity of reaching the body, and take Kirk. None of them could allow that.

"Malfunctioned? Is that the explanation you're going for?" Tinibu had a deep frown on his face, his scar more prominent. "Because that's not the explanation I can say when I enter a room full of Admirals, shocked as to why they're still together."

"Round Four can still continue."

"But now it'll be complicated to see whether if they're emotionally compromised or not."

"That's only one objective. One that has been recently implemented, might I add. Their loyalty can still be tested, like how it was supposed to." It was clear that Felicity abhorred how Tinibu changed the rules just because there was a romantic relationship involved.

Birney hated him. Then again, Tinibu was just the messenger, but he didn't have to be such a dick.

When a scream shattered the awkward conversation, Tinibu shut his eyes – unable to see the Salvatus add-on that had the exact same scar as him. "We will continue this later. Expect a call."

None of them could celebrate. None of them could relax at a job well done, because in the end, they were still horrible, horrible people.

_["Where is the base?"_

_"I plead the fifth."]_

The add-ons were temporarily locked, and none of them could do a thing when Lyn and Tinibu took over. The add-ons, especially the one with the scar, had a particular interest with Kirk.

"Guess this is their way of testing emotional compromise." Tsuzuki cursed at the screen. "This isn't humane."

"Look at Spock." Felicity zoomed in on the white face that was losing its paleness and becoming more olive by the minute.

"He can't … " Birney covered her mouth. "He can't breathe." She shivered when she realized that the add-ons discovered the same.

Then she chugged down a whole bottle of water when they perished into ashes. These were the actions of a man who would have come back for Kirk. Felicity was right. This would have been too unpredictable for them if the officers were separated.

Felicity hid her face in her palms, probably reminding herself to breathe from a job well done. This scenario was better than the one that could have happened.

**\- ROUND FOUR COMPLETE -**

**.**

**.**

**.**

Birney silently thanked Tsuzuki and his creation because the boy 'Karim' was giving life in the most desolate of situations.

In the midst of an alien invasion, he was demanding a sweet sixteen like a prissy spoiled child.

"We talked about a party once." Birney allowed herself a smile.

"And they're following through. The idea was ridiculous before, but I happen to agree with this." Weston added, getting up to retrieve his food. "Let's leave them alone."

While the other's snickered and laughed at the wedding cake, Birney stared at the command team on another screen, and watched them jump off their beds with piercing screams.

Every hint of happiness was perpetually devoured by something, and this time, she couldn't see what it was. All she knew was that she didn't want to see the Commander in a cocoon of his own misery again.

These meditations … were they good?

**.**

**.**

**.**

It was the twentieth day and Tsuzuki was calling bets. "My teammates in all that is deranged in Starfleet, I am announcing a challenge."

Weston actually seemed entertained by this. "And what might that entail?"

"A bet to see if we reach the maximum, of course."

"That could be up to three more months for them, if we continue in this pace." Felicity was doubtful.

"But only eight days for us."

"We're in Round Five." Birney pointed out. "The rescue ships from Yorktown are about to descend, so there's no point of reaching the maximum."

Tsuzuki remained doubtful. "I don't put it past them."

**.**

**.**

**.**

The next day, Felicity woke them all up. Birney rubbed her eyes and quickly tide up her tight coils with a whine.

"We have another problem." Felicity said with saddened eyes.

None of them were required an explanation when they returned to their stations from across the hall. The problem was broadcasted on all screens.

The winning outcome was deleted by Tinibu himself.

[ROUND FIVE: Winning option in program 9273SK91720 (Yes/No): **No**.]

"Guys …" Tsuzuki said, keeping his voice depressingly low. "This is my last assignment."

Everyone, including Weston agreed.

Birney tapped her consul a little harder that day. Pretty soon, glitches started to happen simply because they were too angry to do their work properly.

Tsuzuki took to updating the Karim 'add-on' and his mistakes were the most prominent.

_["I never thanked you man."_

_"Uhh …"_

_"Well, see you later! Oh, one more thing."_

_"You want to … thank me?"_

_"Wow – How'd you know?!"]_

Then the expected call came through. Birney answered with a heavy sigh. "McCoy … I respectfully ask that you cease calling every time when– _"_

_"McCoy? McCoy?! You think McCoy is the only one capable of reacting in the presence of complete bullshit?!"_

Birney was too tired to answer to M'Benga. Too tired to answer to anyone. "…"

_"Who did it?"_

She wanted to say, all of Starfleet, but she refrained. "… I can't reveal."

_"Who was the incompetent officer who fucked up?!"_

The line was then taken over by Lieutenant Lyn.

Soon after, one deer, two deer, and twelve – it was all the same to Birney. The only good thing that came out of this was the footage that was taking place two screens away.

_["I cannot answer that with absolute certainty – My sanity might be in question if I chose to not kiss you while in our bed for all of lockdown."]_

For something she originally thought was toxic, she became grateful for it. They would need each other as much as they could for what was about to happen.

"Sly fox." Tsuzuki paused in his motions and gazed at the Spock on the other screen, instead of the one in his station, currently driving back from the hunt.

She ignored it with a chuckle. "Weston."

"On it."

Weston was the one whom took to deleting all intimate footage, so that it would never resurface in the world again. He made it into the ashes that floated in the SIM skies.

"And let's make sure none of our Warehouse idiots bother the two, please."

**.**

**.**

**.**

_["When things turn for the worst, we don't get that choice. They came for us, not the other way around. Regardless, we don't have the luxury to wallow in regret. It's against your nature, I get that. Shit, it's against mine too, but don't feel sad about those that made you hide who you are. Then that means they won."]_

"See? Now that's what I've been preachin' about." Tsuzuki wholeheartedly agreed.

"Spock's point still remains." Weston crossed his arms. "Everyone should have been allowed a chance."

"In a utopia, maybe." Tsuzuki mercilessly scolded.

**.**

**.**

**.**

Tinibu's body projected in the middle of the room. _"Progress report?"_

"The weapons have been temporarily removed, sir."

In the beginning, the winnings option never presented itself when it came to Spock and Kirk. No matter how hard the team pushed, they always met with failure. It was something that Birney and the rest had to manually construct, because this was supposed to be different.

This wasn't supposed to be cruel.

Now nature would take its toll and that was complete and total hopelessness.

Birney resorted to doing something that might have been the symptom of insanity. She literally took over the add-on 'Zack' and placed her lips over the microphone.

"Okay, so basically it starts off like this. You have a group of five. The popular jock, the free-spirited girl, the shy girl, the conspiracy theorist guy, and the guy who gets regular temper tantrums."

When one enabled the mic, the whole team had to remain quiet, and mute all screens. And so they did, with the widest eyes they could muster.

She broadcasted her subliminal message.

**.**

**.**

**.**

On their left, the rest viewed the next couple of days going pretty simple. The lights were gone, and the command team were enjoying themselves. On one screen in particular, they were not.

As Birney heard Kirk's secret roll off his tongue, she finally understood everything. They were always nervous of Spock's influence, and here they thought forcing Kirk's to be the most prominent would be a great safety measure, but instead – it barely made a difference. They now knew why.

_["James was part of the Miracle Nine…"]_

Out of all of them, Weston was the one who took off his glasses, turned off the functions of his consul, and placed his head on it. He was taking his break.

"We have a mind of a Vulcan, which naturally includes telepathy. Hard, okay, but we can tolerate that. Now, said abilities have to be removed. Ridiculous if you ask me, but we complied – as if we had a choice, right?" Weston mumbled on his over his consul, "Now the Vulcan mind is one that's experienced the worst event in recent history. I'm trembling, but done. Our only hope is to have Kirk take over as much as he can, to reduce the severity of a SIM that's already severe. Never works. Why?"

Birney became tense from the Lieutenant Commander's tone. "Weston – "

"It's because he went through a genocide!" Weston barked, lost of all composure.

"Hey, we didn't know." She reassured the best she could, with her arms placated.

"Then we should have looked harder and found out." Weston placed both his arms on the consul and wrapped his fallen head. "Now we had a hand at merging two minds that need a thorough restoration if you ask me."

Felicity replayed one sentence from Kirk's 'tunnel of terror'. Birney turned to her and watched her play the recording of Governor's Kodos' speech alongside it. They overlapped the other in perfect harmony.

_"You are not worthy!"_

_"You are not worthy!"_

"Well call me bananas."

"Turn it off." Weston demanded from his station. "Off, Lieutenant!"

Tinibu appeared before them again. _"Ensign Birney, your attendance is required on the top floor, with which you will then be escorted."_

All heads snapped up with growing nervousness seething the atmosphere.

"Yes, sir." She expected it after all.

Tsuzuki and Felicity wished her luck.

They were all horrible, horrible people.

**.**

**.**

**.**

Tsuzuki was the first person she saw once she returned. "Welcome back!"

"Wish I wasn't here."

"You love us."

"Right …" Birney sighed. "Anyways, I'm stuck here because it's impossible for someone to be vetted so soon, considering that we're almost finished. It's a critical moment, since they decided to delete my rescue mission. Personally, I just think that they don't want more people knowing the craziness we have taken part in creating."

Her station would be under watch though, and she would be unable to interfere with any add-ons from hereon out.

Bummer.

"What'd you tell them?" Felicity tilted her head in question.

"I told them that they were _old_."

"Ensign Birney!"

She expected Felicity's disappointment. "And that everything will crumble on their old faces."

"You daredevil." Of course Tsuzuki would approve.

Felicity wasn't having it. "That was incredibly heedless of you."

"I know."

"Especially since nothing will crumble on their faces." Felicity motioned her hair up to tie it into a tighter ponytail. "We're puppets, and our strings are made of Damascus steel."

"I think change could happen." She knew she sounded stupidly optimistic. "It's happened before."

Tsuzuki let out a loud laugh. "And I think I'm going to marry Commander Spock."

"I'm serious."

"Gee, I guess I'm serious too then!"

"So what, you think Kirk's the next Admiral Jackson?"

Felicity's question was more like an insulting joke.

"It could very well be Spock."

"I think I gave you too many drinks. You're officially cut off."

Birney rolled her eyes and paid it no mind. As she sat on her station, she noticed the red rings around Weston's eyes, working endlessly to reintroduce the lights back into the SIM.

He was a zombie.

"So what'd I miss?" She asked the group.

"Kirk wants to have a Vulcan wedding with his First Officer."

Right then, Birney rampaged though Tsuzuki's bag and stole another can.

By the time Tsuzuki opened his mouth to complain, Birney lifted a finger. "I'm not interested. I'm going to drink this, work my ass off and forget about the fact that these two want to run off into the sunset, just to reach the other side of the mountain, and then inevitably realize that their actions were detrimental to their team dynamic."

"So far, they're still compatible, which is shocking, I know. But still, this is good for them." Tsuzuki's comment was an ignorant one. "This could be for the better, Birney."

"And you think Starfleet's going allow this?" Birney laughed and laughed until her breath hitched, forming the smallest of cries.

**.**

**.**

**.**

Birney was too sober for this. Especially when Tsuzuki commented on the new footage that required deletion prior to being sent to the Admiral's screen.

These two were almost as worse as Commander Harry, and that man fucked anything with two legs.

"I'll call you 'Chief' whenever you want, Mr. Spock." Tsuzuki seductively declared, totally oblivious to the judging eyes sent his way.

"You need to get laid." Birney was so close to throwing something at the ensign.

"Too much work." Tsuzuki then turned around with a mischievous grin. "You know … we could take a break together and bond over our … SIM struggles."

Birney must have thrown something, because Tsuzuki's painful groan bounced off the screens.

**.**

**.**

**.**

Birney was shocked. Granted, mistakes did happen, but never from her former professor.

"I'm so, so sorry."

"You almost killed them." Weston narrowed his eyes at her.

"I didn't mean to!" Felicity retorted.

A glowing weapon found its way into the market and was noticed by Kirk, but not by Spock. Spock may as well have seen it because he trusted everything that came out of Kirk's mouth. At least Felicity removed it as soon as possible.

It was a blink of a second for Spock and Kirk. Nonetheless, they knew something was wrong.

Sometimes, Birney felt Spock and Kirk's glare burning into them through the screen.

**.**

**.**

**.**

Lieutenant Lyn and Commander Tinibu both projected into the room. Honestly, the two could have just taken the trip here, but always refused, except for one time. What came out of their mouths made Birney want to puke.

Tsuzuki rolled right up to the projections of the people he most likely desired to sucker punch. "You want us to what?!"

 _"Terminate."_ Lyn responded like the robot she was.

"So let me get this straight." Tsuzuki's hand motions were animated as he squinted his eyes, attempting to sort through their most recent command. "You, want us, to kill one hundred and forty-eight people? Did I hear that right?"

_"Add-ons, Ensign Tsuzuki. Your are instructed to terminate, not kill, one hundred and forty-eight add-ons."_

Weston stood up and marched right up to Commander Tinibu. "You do realize we can't facilitate that unless there's a breach. I'll remind you that this is impossible, especially since the chances of that is less than one percent. Spock and Terrence continuously update the computer and manually close whatever they – "

_"And?"_

Weston winced. "Then that means Captain Kirk and Commander Spock will have to perish with them. Does this mean the SIM is complete?"

_"No."_

"Then how – "

_"Captain Kirk and Commander Spock will not die. Simple."_

Tsuzuki sharply exhaled. "That doesn't follow the story! They're going to blame themselves, and wonder how the hell that happened."

_"Just get it done by 0920 to match their timeline. Don't make me mark you down for insubordination.'_

The projections disappeared and Birney remained frozen in her spot. Felicity stared at them with an unsettling expression.

Tsuzuki and Weston exchanged a quick angered look.

"I could override Tinibu's commands and reinstall our original Round Five," Tsusuki suggested with a look of scorn, "Winning option included. These two would definitely find a way out."

"They would FAIL." Weston moved away from his spot, as if the area of where the projections of their team heads stood disgusted him. "And not because they earned it, but because we ruined everything."

"Or worse – it would be INVALID, and I think the two would resign before going through this again." Felicity opined.

"But – "

"I understand, but we have to acknowledge that they're just add-ons." Felicity urged Tsuzuki to understand their position.

"Add-ons. Right." Tsuzuki rolled to his station and shrugged. "Because Kirk and Spock see them as add-ons. Totally."

"They will when they wake up - " She reassured.

"My soul can't hold any more lies, Lieutenant." Tsuzuki interjected, "It has reached maximum capacity."

When a new pack of cans got delivered to their room, they all opened one and gave the other a determined look before going back and playing the Devil.

**.**

**.**

**.**

Felicity and Weston informed Birney and Tsuzuki that Vulcans did not grieve in the same manner as humans. But the silent fact remained - Vulcans did grieve. Period.

"Talk to Spock, Kirk."

The workload should have been easier, since there were no add-ons to manage. However, it irked to watch these two do things and they couldn't interfere. If they could, Kirk would have hugged Spock by now. Kirk would have been yelled at by Karim, Lexa, Zack ... anyone, so that he could do right.

Where was Savitra when Birney needed her?

"He's barely even reading the book." Felicity said as she zoomed in on the same image on a different screen, which meant a different day. Kirk was the same statue in most of them. "He's spacing off."

"He'd rather space off than talk to the man next to him. Like, C'mon! The Commander makes you food, he wants to hug you, he cares, and you're getting stuck in your own world."

"Our job is the SIM, not their relationship." Weston reminded.

"But this is sky-high levels of fucked up, Weston."

This was why Birney believed love to be a flaw, instead of a benefit to their psyche. Spock's sent yearning looks Kirk's way, and they were too much for her to digest. They were geniuses, except it didn't take a genius to deduce that Spock was losing Kirk, and Kirk barely noticed a thing.

**.**

**.**

**.**

"Shave, shave, shave – "

"Shave it, Kirk."

"Do it."

"Do it, Captain!"

When Kirk picked up the razor, Tsuzuki jumped up with fists high, like he watched the Warehouse's soccer game all over again.

After they all stopped their applause, they gawked at the other.

"We're too invested." Weston gulped and stared at his palms like they were the enemy. "Shit."

**.**

**.**

**.**

They were nearing the twenty-seventh day, and Tsuzuki decided to call off the bet. It was disrespectful, and he didn't mean it at the time. His word vomit was sometimes just that, word vomit.

"Say, yes!" Felicity wiped her forehead, uncharacteristically on edge. "The Commander better give this to Kirk. He's been asking from the beginning. Don't do this to him now."

"You don't ' _give'_ a marriage. It's a joining of two." Weston implied. "Frankly, it's a joining of two families, but in this case that's not happening. Still, it takes two."

Birney wasn't sure what to think of this. She dreaded what this would do to them, but maybe this would be for the better. Maybe Tsuzuki's words weren't so ignorant after all.

Or maybe their reconciliation made her too invested again.

"He's waiting, Spock." Tsuzuki talked to the Commander on the center screen.

"We could just skip this. We're not meant to bring the ships in yet, and there's nothing we can change."

"It's the suspense, Birney!"

"They're real people with real feeling. We shouldn't treat this like a movie. Like, we should be more – "

Birney never completed her sentence.

_["Only if I am allowed the honor of becoming your bondmate."]_

She abruptly pushed Tsuzuki away. "Yes!"

By the time the rest started to chant 'Cut, Cut, Cut – ' she joined in and was grateful for every piece of black strand that trickled into the restroom sink. Spock no longer felt the need to hide.

"Weston." Felicity reminded the Lieutenant Commander of his job.

"Vows, stargazing, their sexual frustrations – done, done, and done."

"Can I keep the vows?" Tsuzuki asked. "I promise to keep them protected on my personal terminal."

"No!"

**.**

**.**

**.**

It was great for them when Kirk didn't notice the extra glass furniture in the store. They knew exactly why he brought Spock there, and they decided to help since they were pretty much rendered useless for the next few hours.

The others were urging Spock to join in this illogical, and yet therapeutic movement, but Birney closely watched Spock, and noticed how he became more interested by the second. He was thoroughly sucked in by the fragmented pieces dancing on the floor.

The Commander tossed his branch up in the air.

The shatter of Spock's first object was met with approval.

"Break everything."

_["Terra does not belong to them."]_

Tsuzuki agreed with all his caffeine filled heart. "Let 'em know exactly how you feel!"

_["And they can all go fuck themselves!"]_

Birney couldn't have said it better herself.

**.**

**.**

**.**

Weston's creations soon floated above the sky with the new and improved weapons. They were ready to wreak terror.

"We're going home today, fellow teammates." Tsuzuki announced as he placed the cans all over the room in a plastic bag to go down the chute downstairs.

"Do you think they know there's no winning option?"

"The Commander most likely has the odds of success in his head, already calculated." Birney observed. "Except… he's not telling Kirk a thing."

"Because if Kirk wanted to run, he would join." Weston moved his glasses higher on the bridge of his nose, leaned back in his seat and crossed his legs.

In the end, the SIM concluded with the Chief and Lightrunner ending the chase themselves.

**\- ROUND FIVE COMPLETE -**

**.**

**.**

**.**

It was nearing the afternoon, and the four of them held their hot mugs of coffee. Each of their bags were either around their backs, or their sides. They should have went home by now, except they overheard that Captain Kirk was assigned to Lieutenant Quinn for the POST-SIM interview.

They knew for a fact, that he was insensitive on every scale, and angered many SIM participants in the past.

Birney called Lt. Saadik to see if he could fill in for the interviewer. It was a disappointment when Saadik told them that the job was filled, but he would find a way if he could. Felicity and Weston were rejected for the position anyways. They had to at least try.

It was only fifteen minutes later after Quinn went in, that Quinn went out.

Lt. Saadik took over from there.

Whatever Kirk said to Quinn, they wouldn't know.

At least Admiral Archer was conducting Spock's interview. It was a small clemency from the universe.

**.**

**.**

**.**

They squeezed together on a bench meant for three people at most, and carefully watched Commander Spock walk right out of HQ. One would think that Spock seemed fine, however these four operatives knew he was far from it.

He was oblivious to their stares. He probably didn't care to look around, fully dedicated to one objective - escaping. Commander Spock never met them, only Felicity and that was on a few occasions in the Academy. It was so tempting to offer a ride home, except it would expose them of what they were. They never would be able to have a proper conversation with either man after what they've seen.

By the time Kirk rushed out with Dr. McCoy chasing right behind in urgency, they knew the damage was done.

Kirk's First Officer was long gone.

All of them simultaneously took a sip of their last soda cans.

"Guys …" Birney began.

Tsuzuki knew exactly what she wanted to say, "We're horrible –"

Weston continued, "Horrible – "

"People." Felicity sadly finished.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To those of you that have decided to read this, I hope you enjoyed.  
> I know this was a 13.4K roller-coaster.
> 
> Will update very soon.
> 
> ~X


	47. POST SIM - PART FIFTEEN

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a short Spock POV before my next update!  
> Song: Incomplete by James Bay  
> Warning: Reminiscence 
> 
> Enjoy?

** POST SIM - PART FIFTEEN **

 

 

Later in the day, there was a moment when Spock started to feel uncomfortable in the passenger seat of his own craft. He predicted the subtle beginnings of McCoy’s micro-naps. It was then that Spock made it his objective to see the doctor home safely and took over.

 

 _‘You’re never going to let this die, are you?’_ McCoy complained, as Spock placed a blanket on him after they reached their destination.

 

McCoy found humor in the unexpected turn of their day’s events. McCoy claimed that he was the caretaker with every intention of watching over Spock, and yet, he was the one that ended up being ‘tucked in’.

 

Spock noticed how every light was fully off, and then he noticed the emptiness of McCoy’s refrigerator.

The environment was cold. Colder than what most humans would find tolerable.

After he raised the heat, he went against his better judgment and decided to do something rash.

 

McCoy never installed a home-based computer, but he did obtain home security.

It was not an intricate task to ‘play around’ with the screen beside the door. It took thirty-two seconds to discover when the front door was last opened. Spock did not react, for this was unsurprising. He specifically told McCoy not to do this, but when he did, he knew it was in vain.

 

“Reckless and illogical.”

 

Spock immediately took his exit after inserting the code McCoy gave him. He retrieved some of the items he bought, placed them in McCoy's kitchen, then proceeded on his way home.

 

Driving was not as complicated as McCoy feared. Spock placed his keys on the counter once he entered his home. Standing in the center of his kitchen, the low hum of his walls began to dissipate.

 

The silence of it all hit him. Silence was threatening. It was because of this underlying feeling that built up when he was alone, that he held every friendly presence with value.

 

Earlier, he took the liberty of informing McCoy that he was thankful for the distraction. Prior to the SIM, he might have endeavored to find a way to maneuver around the confession, however he was recently reminded of his most valuable lesson.

 

“Computer, select file _SIM 9273SK91720_ and broadcast on holoscreen.”

 

He took out his groceries, and sorted the items through his kitchen whilst adding water to one of his pot. He made sure to retrieve some black tea during his shopping, and placed a satisfactory amount in it.

 

It was Assam tea – Savitra’s favorite.

 

He would be lying if he said it was not deliberate on his part.

The aroma of it was nostalgic.

 

_“Timeline on screen.”_

 

He sped up his chores.

**.**

**.**

**.**

 

There were thumbnails floating above all five hundred and seventy-seven days.

One year, seven months, two days and eight hours.

 

Unlike Jim, whom he presumed would accept the file, he did not require the use of these thumbnails, nor did he require the timeline in general. Every single day was forever carved into his mind.

 

With a hot mug in hand, Spock parted his lips.

 

“Select day, four hundred and eighty-five.”

 

_“Day four hundred and eighty-five ... selected._

_Commencing SIMULATION footage.”_

 

Spock should have chosen another day.

He could have decided to observe one that was filled with pleasant memories.

 

**.**

**.**

**.**

 

 _[_ **_Markus:_ ** _Chief!  
_

**_Spock:_ ** _Yes, Markus – you have now acquired my attention as a reward for your incessant yelling down the corridors.  
_

**_Markus:_ ** _We seriously need to talk. What’s wrong with you, man?  
_

**_Spock_** _: As you can see, my leg is still healing; however I am safe. We are all safe. Therefore nothing is ‘wrong’.  
_

**_Markus:_ ** _Don’t give me any of that passive aggressiveness. Just talk to me.  
_

**_Spock:_ ** _And what do you feel inclined to discuss?  
_

**_Markus:_ ** _Anything. Just for once, talk to us. We’re council, and you only talk to Jim. Chief … you look at us like we’re … one of them._

 **_Spock:_ ** _One of whom?  
_

**_Markus:_ ** _Those killers –  
_

**_Spock:_ ** _And are we not?]_

**.**

**.**

**.**

 

Spock remembered everything his mother said. Out of everything she advised, one in particular took refuge on the surface of the vacant and colorless bridge of his mind.

_'When there is one you care for, and they are in your presence, make them aware of your gratitude. The next meeting is never guaranteed.'_

**_._ **

**_._ **

**_._ **

 

 _[_ **_Markus:_** _Excuse me_ _?_

 **_Spock:_** _Are we not all killers?  
_

**_Markus:_ ** _Spock -  
_

**_Spock:_ ** _Especially you?]_

**.**

**.**

**.**

This was one of the last conversations he had with council.

**.**

**.**

**.**

 

 

> **Just checking to make sure you didn’t hit a tree.**
> 
> **-LM**
> 
>  

> **I am currently home.**
> 
> **Not one tree has met its demise as a result of my driving skills.**
> 
> **-S**
> 
>  

> **Good.**
> 
> **-LM**
> 
>  

> **Sleep well.**
> 
> **-S**
> 
>  

> **I think you've just planted the seed to a few nightmares.**
> 
> **-LM**
> 
>  

> **Perhaps this is my intent.**
> 
> **-S**


	48. POST SIM - PART SIXTEEN

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: World building *hides under desk*
> 
> Song: Waiting Game by Banks
> 
> Enjoy?
> 
>  
> 
> ~X

** POST SIM - PART SIXTEEN **

 

 

One earphone in - the music vibrated through his body, resurrecting every dormant muscle. Jim bounced in his spot, a few feet from his door and stretched his neck by tilting his head to each side.

It was nearing 0600, and he decided to dedicate this time to checking his endurance. His sleep was a fitful one. If this was when lockdown would be lifted, he never thought about it.

He made sure to have a filling breakfast with as many food groups he could digest. Yes, his diet was somewhat similar to the one in his SIM, however Jim shrugged. It wasn’t a crisis.

It would change eventually.

 

It was unpleasant, having his left leg suddenly go numb on his way to the kitchen. For a moment, he was worried that the SIM did damage, but in actuality, his real body still had more healing to do. He didn’t only endure physical troubles in the SIM. He almost forgot, but this morning did a splendid job at reminding him of that.

After he ate, he cluelessly stared at his cabinet of sterilized hyposhots. The sudden forgetfulness almost caused a little chuckle. Which one was which, he didn't know. He accidentally dumped the labels a few weeks back, and never decided on retrieving new ones since he became such an expert.

Surprisingly, McCoy believed him then as well.

 

He made a mental note to fix that issue as soon as he could.

Maybe if he asked nicely, McCoy might be able to provide pills. McCoy did so before … even though they were just sleeping pills. He acknowledged that if he didn’t piss off his friend by his latest stunt with M’Benga yesterday, then that might have been a possibility.

Alas, the universe was a tricky woman.

 

Another earphone in, and the beats clashed together, reviving Jim completely. His door slid open and within a few steps, Jim began his jog. The sun's rays warmed his skin, and instantly, he felt safe.

As he saw a woman walk with the biggest dogs Jim’s ever seen, he raised the volume to distract from their barking.

They were on leashes.

 

“Stress, but not too much stress.”

 

**.**

**.**

**.**

 

Once clean and ready to debark for his meeting, Jim questioned his whole attire. Frankly, he questioned everything.

What was he doing, for one. And again, what was he wearing?

 

His black hoodie and sweat pants made him appear to be double his weight. He hasn’t dressed like this in public since his entrance in the Academy. It was mainly the hidden face that made him look scary. Anyhow - beggars couldn’t be choosers. This was better than looking like Captain James T. Kirk, the sought out Golden Boy.

The address sent to him was of an isolated building not far off. Jim was informed that this setting was perfect for their temporary stay, considering that ‘Dhar & Associates’ was located in another freakin’ continent.

He agreed, but he never modified his choice of clothing. Also, his decision to park a few feet away didn't change either.

They were safety measures.

 

Prior to all this, he did his research.

 

Gregory Dhar, Edmond Dhar’s son had been in corporate law for five years. Within the last seven, he had directed his expertise in crisis management with clientele that included Europeans finest. He had the ability of making the slimiest man into a saint.

 

Edmond Dhar was a top ten graduate of the University of Barcelona, prior to his entrance at the University of Virginia by the age of twenty-two.

Post graduation, he worked in civil rights for three years, then tapped his foot into Starfleet as a new career path after his brother’s passing. One might say that Peter Dhar’s death after his own SIM had some correlation, but it was never proven.

 

At the age of twenty-nine, he took his SIM. Only two years after graduation, Lieutenant Edmond Dhar resigned, and endeavored to eliminate the SIMULATION program entirely. He was the first to publicly speak about his in detail. He was the head of a team of five well-esteemed men and women. Unfortunately, Franklin Mason was the only one currently alive.

The team were said to have gathered reports of officers that received a PASS, and they did this by personal statements. Jim knew they must have also had reports of those that failed, but chances were that their testimonies weren’t worth much.

The consequences of those few individuals that Edmond revealed to the Admiralty, were never taken under serious thought.

 

Very fast, Dhar’s goal was becoming a failure, and Jim believed that this was because all the hearings were kept confidential. The public eye believed the SIM to be beneficial. It was tradition and highly efficient. The ones that conducted the SIM went through it themselves like the ones before them, therefore their opinions always took precedence.

 

Who would agree with something that hurt them, after all?

 

It wasn’t until Admiral Amy Jackson publicly spoke alongside Edmond Dhar, that her comrades and civilians finally understood. She didn’t just explain her SIM, but she also explained on how it related to her life. She wasn't some crying ensign. She was highly respected and obtained an exceptional record.

Her program was completed when she became ensign, and she spoke as if getting up every day, working and repressing a memory twice experienced, was crumbling her soul. She held her tongue - in fear that she would be perceived as weak, compared to those she worked beside.

Surprisingly, others spoke about their program after the fact. They didn't resort to official complaints. They took to the news and online platforms. It exposed that a large percent of them were in fact inhumane.

 

Aliens … well, all Federation species' representatives kept silent.

The movement remained a human one.

 

The officials that had voted and conducted the program, eliminated it altogether because of the intense criticism. They weren’t happy about it, claiming that the psych evals weren’t enough to determine an individual’s true characteristics and value.

Not enough cared. The majority were happy.

At the age of thirty-two, Edmond stood next to Admiral Jackson and together, they became the face of hope.

 

And it was all happening again – all thanks to Marcus. Apparently, it became popular belief that none of this would have happened if the SIM were still in place.

Ignorant fools.

 

Jim understood that if he had to be Jackson, then he would. In fact, he would be better.

He wouldn’t speak about Spock’s hardships … although he freakin’ should. His experiences alone held enough weight ... hopefully.

 

This would become a human fight once more, and Jim didn’t mind, as long as the non-human officers benefited from it in the end. It wasn’t as if some other Vulcan was going to do it for Spock and their people. Would the other telepathic and empathetic officers speak? They were leaving by the bunch, and the ambassadors were together by the hip lately, from the pictures he saw today.

 

In Jim’s book, all those in paparazzi were necromancers.

 

He awkwardly cleared his throat. “I have an appointment.”

 

He kept his head down, and ignored the young man’s confused gaze. The assistant/receptionist was probably wondering why someone could dress so horrid in a professional environment.

 

“Mr. Kirk?” The man asked as if it wasn't possible.

 

“Yes.”

 

The young man stood up, still trying to catch a peek at Jim’s face. Sometime later, Jim could see it in the man's resolve that he decided to just go along with it. “This way, sir.”

 

Jim followed him until they reached a door at the end of the polished hallway. It was surprisingly empty, and because of it, he became conscious of every step. He could hear his nervousness dripping through the marble walls.

 

“Mr. Dhar and Mr. Dhar, your 0800 appointment is here.”

 

“Thank you.” It sounded like a rugged voice that experienced many coughs. “You may leave.”

 

The assistant/receptionist gave Jim the side eye before he swayed back to his desk, leaving the men alone.

 

Jim gulped and walked inside the room with a relieved sigh. It was as if he just completed a ground mission. He closed the door behind him and moved back his hood, blinking his eyes to adjust them to the brighter setting.

And boy was it a big one. The conference table was long and of dark wood, capable of holding fourteen. Looking at the Dhar’s ahead of him, his mind steered to the thought of how well they meshed with the environment, unlike Jim himself.

 

“Mr. Kirk.” A softer voice greeted him.

 

Gregory Dhar was standing near his father’s seat at the end of the table. He had his palm on the top right of Edmond’s seat and the other in his pocket as he leaned by it. He was a thin man in a navy suit with perfectly groomed jet-black hair.

 

Practically identical to his father - except for the white hair that was void of all color. It was the shade of the weapons that flooded the cities in the first attack. His wrinkles weren't deep for a man of ninety-eight years – he didn’t look a day past seventy. Edmond stood up slowly from his seat, and Jim quickly took that as his cue to move ahead so Edmond wouldn’t have to walk far.

 

Jim held out his hand, and Edmond wrapped his hand around it and gave a firm shake - Too firm if he said so himself. An awkward smile creeped up his face soon after.

 

Jim then turned to Gregory, and was met with a hand already up for the shake. He took it.

 

 

“I have to say, _Captain_ Kirk – I am still surprised.” Gregory narrowed his dark eyes at Jim, weighing if he was the real thing.

 

Jim had to turn away from them, because they were too dark. Dark enough to resemble a certain someone… He ripped his thoughts from that portion of his mind, and then gave them his most – approachable, diplomatic smile. It was perfected to excellence, and he used it with grace.

 

“I’m here, aren’t I?”

 

“I have to ask, how did you get my private number?” Edmond gestured for Jim to sit down in an available seat.

 

“Admiral Jonathan Archer.” He answered as he settled in his chair. All of them were formed in a small triangle at the end of the long room.

 

Edmond’s old eyes brightened at the name. “That explains quite a lot. He’s the one that called me when the SIMs were in the talks prior to making it all … official.”

 

“He was warning us.” Gregory added.

 

Edmond inched forward. “Now for a second there, I almost believed that the alterations they spoke of actually did its damn job. Not a single person came to me, and from what I see, nor confided in another outside of Starfleet. There isn’t a confidentiality agreement attached to the tests – only to the ones witnessing or conducting them. What happened to this generation to put the fear of God in them?”

 

Jim raised his brows, wondering how he could break apart such a filled question. “General paranoia. I’m not sure what you’ve heard in Spain, but Starfleet has been through a lot lately. It isn’t just this other aspect of society civilians ignore anymore.”

 

“Clearly.” Gregory obviously understood Jim’s sentiment. "Otherwise, this whole scenario wouldn't be taking place. It's unfortunate that many praised Starfleet for being truthful in the midst of a crisis, oblivious to the terror that would rain on them. It seems that they will think twice before doing that again."

 

"And what about you? Do you disagree?" Jim asked, curious to Gregory's beliefs. He had a good idea so far. When Gregory's features formed into a clear message of ' _yep_ ', his stomach flipped unpleasantly.

 

"Well.." Edmond began, "It's of no matter now. Focusing on what could have been done is a waste of time, I always say. Now, I want to know your perspective. Tell me, why the crickets?"

 

That was easy. “Many of the officers can't fathom the idea of bothering their superior officers with their personal troubles regarding the program, because it would make them look weak and unfit with the added fear of being sent for evaluations. The ones that they report back to – which include people like me, don’t mention theirs because they have an example to set. Trust and friendships become obsolete. It's one big game of who can create the most concrete mask, sir."

 

“It’s about respect.” Gregory hummed with agreement. “I must ask. Do you believe that coming to us will strip you of it?”

 

_Yes._

 

“I can’t go on my mission with my crew ... damaged.”

 

“Do you believe yourself to be damaged?” Edmond asked.

 

Jim leaned back in his seat, looking between the Dhars and gulped. “I’m functioning.”

 

Gregory didn't believe a word. "I see." And he did.

 

Jim then became worried that Gregory saw too much.

 

“Listen, son…” Edmond placed his enclosed palms on the table, his eyes boring into Jim’s soul. “Why are you here?”

 

Jim winced at the weird question. He opened his hands wide. “Isn’t that obvious?”

 

“We need to know that you’re genuine – “ Edmond squinted at him, his crows feet emphasized. “We don’t tolerate deceit of any kind.”

  
“You need to elaborate then.” Jim politely asked. “I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t genuine.”

 

“It’s going to be tough.” Edmond released a sigh. “You’re young. You’ve gained so much, and I’m afraid it could be put at risk. You must understand this."

 

It was a cynical thought, but Jim wondered why they cared at all. “We all have the same purpose here.”

 

Gregory nodded. “But we won’t make you into our guinea pig. You have to know exactly what this could entail. If you’re in this, you’re stuck with us. When Amy worked with my father, she was already an Admiral that had every intention of retiring.”

 

Edmond agreed. “This can’t be about some revenge, or an attempt to appear as some hero. You’re going to be the voice of those scared to speak. We asked the same for Admiral Jackson.”

 

“I'm not here to feed my vanity. My crew hid valuable information from me because they were scared of repercussions. Now, whether those repercussions were for what I would do to them, or what I would do to myself, I don’t know.” Jim didn’t want to remember Sulu and Scott’s faces. “That feeling is something that shouldn’t be allowed within a functioning crew and all parts of Starfleet. There has to be communication. I was ignorant to the struggles of those I held dear until I went through it myself. It’s wrong in every way, and I cringe at the thought of it. I opted out of the witnessing the SIMs, like the other Captains, but in truth, I believe we messed up in the process. You ask if I’m genuine …I would've been here before my own SIM if I knew.”

 

The Dhar’s exchanged glances, and luckily, they were both impressed.

 

“As morbid as this sounds, I guess this is the universe’s way of helping us. Your word wouldn’t matter much if you didn’t take the SIM, would it.” Gregory reached for his bag and took out a PADD. "And credibility is everything."

 

It was disturbing that Jim agreed with that at all.

 

“Have you been getting any sleep?” Edmond questioned like a concerned father. ”When did you complete your test?”

 

“I finished my SIM almost two days ago actually.” Jim mumbled the last part too quickly.

 

Gregory widened his eyes just like his father.

 

It was then that they realized his desperation. “Yeah.”

 

“Let me guess, you relived a time of your life you could have done without.”

 

It was the loneliness, the perpetual taunts of death, hence his stay with Camp Salvatus. But his solutions all came up empty. He was then reintroduced to loneliness, struggling every night to seek shelter, until he found permanent shelter again. No ... it was until shelter found him.

 

He was barely hungry, however with each hour back into the real world, he could see which aspects derived from his tainted conscious. Granted, Spock had his own portions, but wasn't Jim supposed to aid? Not make it worse?  He saw many die around him, those that weren’t claimed as 'enough'... and Spock got sucked into it.

 

Toleration.

Burden.

Abhorred.

Hated.

Worthless.

 

“It was of a different class …especially since there’s this new thing that they implemented, which includes the – “

 

“If you want to inform us about the Captains and First Officers taking the SIM together, you need not bother.” Edmond commented with a softened face, his wrinkles disappearing for the moment.

 

Jim’s throat got stuck for a moment. “Oh.”

 

Gregory lifted a brow as he typed down some more stuff - Stuff Jim really, really wanted to see.

 

“Imagine your regrets, fears, fantasies all meshed with the mind of another … That couldn’t have been good.” Edmond frowned. “… and yours was a Vulcan.” He then tsked, his features holding in all the sympathies.

 

“Commander Spock, yes.”

 

“Why is he not here today? Surely this was a dual decision.” Gregory asked. “We know what they do to species that have certain … abilities.”

 

Edmond blew out a gust of air, leaning back on his seat, and waved a hand to dismiss Gregory’s question. “Don’t bother explaining, Mr. Kirk. I tried to get a Vulcan on board during my time with Jackson. She blatantly refused. Never works. To speak about emotional compromise would be to expose the rest of the race. If humans can tolerate it, Vulcans sure can.”

 

Gregory sighed as if he heard that for the millionth time, annoyed by the words. “Well, Mr. Kirk – your Commander might not benefit from this because his is complete, but others like him won’t have to endure this test when we succeed. There are still many that refuse to withdraw."

 

“And how is Commander Spock?” Edmond asked.

 

He said the only thing he could have. “He’s fine.”

 

The Dhars looked at the other again. Jim really wanted to tell them to stop doing that.

 

“Would he take offense if you suggested that he talk to someone? Someone that understood?”

 

Jim pondered on that for a moment. “He wouldn’t be offended, but I doubt he’ll accept.”

 

“Well I know someone that I think would be incredibly helpful, if he’s willing to listen.”

 

Jim wasn’t so sure of that.

 

Edmond took out a small notepad and started to write on it. Gregory kept an analyzing eye on Jim the whole time.

 

Edmond passed a number to him.

 

It belonged to a ‘ _T’Chel Viik’._

 

“She’s stationed on Earth while this whole thing is taking place.”

 

“Is she Vulcan?”

 

Gregory managed the smallest of smiles. “Sure is.”

 

Jim put the paper in his pocket; irresolute that Spock would accept it at all. A knock came from behind him and all three of them turned to the door.

 

The aroma of coffee climbed through his nostrils. He instantly felt better.

 

“As I said before – “ Gregory patted his blazer as he stood up. “ – we have breakfast.” He accepted the cups and bags and closed the door with a thanks.

 

“We have packets of creams and sugar for you as well if you don’t like it black.” Edmond accepted his cup with a nod.

 

Jim accepted his as well and loved the warm beverage between his palms. This definitely wasn’t synthesized through a replicator.

 

“Now, regarding your SIM – you could send us a simple summary, but those are too clinical for my liking.” Edmond said after taking a sip of his drink.

 

“Would you prefer for me to send you the file?” Because if that were the case, Jim would have to run home and watch every second before he could do that, and that was forgetting the fact that he wasn’t comfortable with that idea at all.

 

No. Jim didn’t believe he could do that.

 

The file was his.

 

Edmond then replied in the weirdest manner. “Are you a liar, Mr. Kirk?”

 

“I’d like to think I’m not.”

 

“Then, no. We hope it doesn’t come to that. We didn’t need it with Jackson.”

 

“Okay …”

 

“I’ll start from scratch then?” Jim offered, more than ready to tell them what they needed to know. He had his statement prepared in his mind. He had many reasons on why the SIM was messed up. He just chose the one that didn’t include Spock.

 

Gregory started to un-cuff his wrists. “Before we begin, Mr. Kirk - What can you give us?”

 

The way the two of them sucked him in with their eyes was an unsettling feeling. “I’m sorry?”

 

“We don’t care if you lost your friends in the SIM.” Gregory said without a bit of remorse. “If whatever you say doesn’t correlate with your real life, it’s superfluous."

 

Edmond stood up after his son spoke. “Mr. Kirk, although your presence in the media is one that we would absolutely love to use, we can’t tolerate some average sob story. Because when you’re presented to the world, you cannot give them the slightest opportunity to be forgotten by the next hot headline.”

 

“We need a story that’ll make the globe weep.” Gregory continued.

 

Oh, god. He knew exactly where they were going with this.

 

Gregory smirked when he saw Jim's features freeze. “We want to make them cry like they’ve never cried before. Have their hearts shatter to so many pieces, the very idea of reassembling will become a mere myth.”

 

“Like what Jackson did.” Jim concluded.

 

“Exactly.” Edmond hummed in agreement. “She forced everyone to their knees in tears. So when my son asks you _‘What can you give us?’_ he means that we need something that will make them spend all the tears they have in their reserves.”

 

“The worse, the better.” Gregory quirked a brow. “The level of despair you conjure is critical. How was the setting? What did your Round Four include? Was the fear inside the program a re-introduction to an old enemy? – Did you have your whole family burned down like Jackson – Did you lose there just as you have lost here? Was it worse?”

 

“Don’t tell me you fell in love with an add-on, Mr. Kirk.”

 

Worse. At least an add-on would be gone, and away from his current life. Spock was real. Spock was here.

 

Spock was here, and yet … he wasn’t.

 

Worse. Definitely, worse.

 

“Did your SIM world reduce you to a puddle of bare nerves?" Gregory continued to question. "Was it your life and fears amplified to levels that you’ll never erase, because of its overwhelming need to just _eat_?”

 

“Tell us." Edmond asked like that of a predator. "Have you been devoured?”

 

Yes, and it had yet to be satiated.

 

It was like Edmond saw into his mind. They both did. “So when we say, what can you give us – we are telling you to stick your hand in that dark batch of goo that holds all your repressed memories. Memories that ruin the psyche when awakened.”

 

“Make them prisoner in your story. Then when we break their hearts, just when they think they lost hope of rebuilding it, you’ll give them the tools.”

 

“Tools…?” Jim dared to ask after Gregory spoke.

 

“Anger.” Edmond answered. “Determination.”

 

“Revenge.” The sharp canine teeth that belonged to Gregory made its shining appearance. “Disgust.”

 

“What they don’t know is that you’ll own them by this very act. You will express your views, but the emotions will all come from the people, Mr. Kirk. Their sentimentality will choke Starfleet.”

 

“Make them remember the taste of bile. Make them remember every pore on your skin and every shade of your irises in all the different angles of light. Make them so familiar with your face, you’ll see it enough to never require a mirror again.”

 

“Let it out for the world.”

 

“Because you will no longer be a person.”

 

“But an idea – one that they’ll follow, love, speak for, and adopt without hesitation. Not a person to pity, young man, but a person to be in awe of.” It was Edmond’s palm in Jim’s shoulder that made him raise all shields. “So, Mr. Golden Boy – “

 

“Captain James T. Kirk – “ Gregory accented drawl of his name just oozed mischief. That sharp suit hid so much.

 

“What. Can. You. – “

 

“Give. Us? -”

 

Jim could only think of one thing as he switched his gaze between the two ravenous dragons in the room. _‘What the fuck did he get himself into?’_

 

Red Alert.

**.**

**.**

**.**

 

**Here is a reminder.  
**

**Reds = Ibuprofen**

**Cyan Blues = Gabapentin**

**Greens = Propranolol**

**And in case you still have any Navy Blues, = Melatonin  
**

**I'll replace them today.**

**And I know what you're thinking ... you want pills.  
**

**I can't. I'm not Cardenas.**

**It won't be good for the long run.**

**-LM**

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PS – I got asked about exact numbers, so here it is.
> 
> Edmond is 98 years old. The SIM was banned a year after he took it, which would make it 66 years since.


	49. POST SIM - PART SEVENTEEN

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are all up in Spock’s personal business here.  
> ALL UP IN THERE!
> 
> *Don’t hate me*
> 
> Warning: My headcanon for Vulcan physiology. Also, M’Benga is really trying to help, but the poor fella can come off insensitive at times…
> 
> Song: Colors (Stripped) by Halsey 
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> ~X

  **POST SIM - PART SEVENTEEN **

 

 

 

> **Mr. Spock.**
> 
> **I received your POST – SIM evaluation file.**
> 
> **I have some concerns that I would like to discuss with you prior to signing anything.**
> 
> **When would you like to meet?**
> 
> **That’s if you can, of course.**
> 
> **\- GB**
> 
> **Dr. M’Benga,**
> 
> **You can arrive to my house.**
> 
> **I am sure you have the address.**
> 
> **1600?**
> 
> **\- S**
> 
> **That’s perfect.**
> 
> **See you then.**
> 
> **\- GB**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**_ CALL ACCEPTED … _ **

****

**_ CONNECTED 1203.00… _ **

 

\- Father.

 

_“I admit – I am somewhat surprised that you have called me.”_

 

\- Was that not your objective when you contacted the Chief Medical Officer of the Enterprise?

 

_“It was.”_

 

\- Do you expect me to personally inform you that you were correct all along?

_“No.”_

 

\- That Starfleet was never an amenable place for a Vulcan to build a career?

 

_“That is not why – “_

 

\- Because that is not the purpose of this call.

 

_“It is most illogical to find satisfaction in one’s consternation, especially within my own blood, Spock.”_

 

\- Then why?

 

_“I hear that you wish to leave Starfleet. Is this true?”_

 

\- Indeed.

 

_“I see.”_

 

\- Why are you here?

 

_“These are different times. After our immeasurable loss, we are more integrated in Starfleet than ever before. The re-implementation of the SIMUATION program is one that cannot be allowed, as it is customized specifically for the human psyche.”_

 

\- Something you have deliberately failed to … no, refused to inform me.

_“Would you have listened?”_

 

\- Excuse me?

 

_“I am here to aid the people of the future. They remain unattached. They have options. You, however, Starfleet has become a place of solace. The Enterprise has become your home, Spock. You were assigned to a five-year mission. I doubt you would have avoided this obstacle if it meant that you were to leave that all behind.”_

 

\- I am leaving, so your point is null and void.

 

_“Incorrect, Spock. My logic is sound.”_

 

\- I require further explanation.

 

_“Do not inquire as to how I know, but I believe that something else took place, my son - something that ultimately made you come to this decision. This something derived from the program, however it is not the program itself that has caused this.”_

 

\- …

 

_“All I am aware of is that you have entered the program with another mind. This is the closest you have come to an intimate mind meld since T’Pring and Christopher Pike. You have endured your test for twenty-eight days, and that is the maximum. What was the SIM duration?”_

 

\- One year, seven months, two days, eight hours and eleven minutes.

 

_“Precisely my point.”_

 

\- You believe Captain Kirk to be the reason for my decision?

 

_“His involvement is undeniable. But if it were exclusively about him, then you would have accepted a compatibility transfer… So there is another unknown variable.”_

 

\- … How are the negotiations faring?

 

_“Unsatisfactory. The data they have gathered is mostly in their favor.”_

 

\- What about our data?

 

_“Insufficient.”_

\- Most unfortunate.

_“Tell me, Spock. How do you feel?”_

 

\- Satisfactory.

 

_“And that is where the complications begin. They have developed a method that allows one with telepathy to endure the program as any other human. They have perfected it in ways that when one is out of stasis, their mind returns to that of one that has been untouched.”_

 

\- As if nothing has taken place.

 

_“As I expected. So we can only endeavor to make certain that the Vulcan cadets, and all others that obtain telepathy in the Academy remove themselves. This way, Starfleet will acknowledge the consequences of their decision.”_

 

\- Because in order to succeed in eliminating this program at this moment, we would have to confess to emotional compromise -

 

_“Vulcans do not experience depression, trauma – “_

 

\- We clear our minds.

 

_“Our minds are sacred. To expose it to such tribulations is illogical. We have argued this. It is our law. We have also argued that we do not lie - deceive – manipulate, except this is a weak one because it is a way of life. We choose to live this way. If this were a biological characteristic of our people, then there would be no need for us to be involved in this.”_

 

\- Before … the humans have succeeded by shaming Starfleet, in which they were ultimately forced to answer to the public’s increasing emotion.

 

_“We can only wish that they will do so again. Our demands landed on deaf ears."  
_

 

\- If not then … I cannot speak on behalf of us, father.”

 

_“You cannot. Even if you decided to be the one to do so, many would argue that – “_

 

\- Any issue that belongs to me is not a proper representation. That I feel this way because of my disadvantage.

 

_“Spock – “_

 

\- There are two others. One of them must have completed the program by now.

 

_“S’kuul has already resigned prior to his appointment. The only one who decided to endure it was a Lieutenant – “_

 

\- V’ek Grayensha.

 

_“Have you spoken to her yet?”_

 

\- I have seen her on occasion, but did not converse.

 

_“Then do so. I am certain there is much to discuss. She is very fond of you, Spock.”_

 

\- How so?

 

_“She has excelled in the Academy as a cadet. After only two Terran years, she is already about to debark on the one-year mission with the USS Antigone. She is of age, and has a career that will not hinder yours if you so choose to continue. I was well acquainted with her family. Not only is lady V’ek intelligent, as we mainly are, she appears to be wiser beyond her years – a characteristic you would admire – “_

 

\- You fail to answer my query.

_“… When you returned to Vulcan to retrieve us, her grandfather was a part of the spared few. Not only is she grateful, she aspires to become someone like you.”_

 

\- She remains in Starfleet because of … sentimentality?

 

_“Correct, although that was not included in her statement to us. And I am expecting the majority in the Academy to remain for that very reason, which is problematic indeed. Only four students have listened to our suggestion thus far.”_

 

\- You can only educate. The decision that they make is theirs and theirs alone. They are adults.

 

_“Speaking of adults, you are now thirty years of age.”_

 

\- I am aware.

 

_“Your mother and I have shown leniency during our search for a bond mate –“_

 

\- I will not endure those again –

 

_“Your relationship with lady Nyota has ceased.”_

 

\- Then I will seek another.

 

_“Many have lost their intended, Spock.”_

 

\- So there is a guarantee that at least one will _settle_ for me. Is that what you are implying?

 

_“Not settle. In fact, many speak highly of you and there are parents that have endeavored to approach me on this subject. This is not a matter of simple compatibility, but of their desire to include you in their family. For their daughters to mate with the most … how do the humans say this – the most sought out bachelor, I believe - ”_

 

\- And these are the words of those whom refused a compatibility melding ceremony when I was a child, for fear that it could succeed. These are the words of those whom had no qualms in speaking ill of your marriage with mother, and about mother herself.

 

_“Spock – “_

 

\- These are the words of those whom have referred to me as without telsu, incessantly forcing me to be aware of it within every gathering. These are the words of those whom express their illogical views of my human-half, and yet speak of their fascination for infinite diversity.

 

_“Son, you cannot let emotion overrun your ability to make the logical decision. Although I understand fully, there is a larger matter at hand.”_

 

\- This is not emotion, but a mere observation of those whom are spontaneously requesting for me to mate with their daughters – to save them – when few spoke of saving me. I have undergone thirty-eight ceremonies when there were four hundred and seventeen females of age in our city alone. They are the ones that made mother abhor her existence, for she believed that if not for her, then you would not have had to beg for each one.

 

_“I will not deny that it was unexpectedly complicated. However, I assure you, I made Amanda aware that she was not at fault during those trying times. Just as I am endeavoring to remind you that these people you speak of, are also your people, and there are very few of us left.”_

 

\- Yes. I am Vulcan. I do not and never will need their validation, their daughters, their sudden acknowledgments, and their high commendations to know exactly what I am.

 

_“As I said, these are different times. You must recognize that these conditions are in your favor. My suggestion is to take advantage of this opportunity. Just as before, we are still not certain if you will be inflicted by pon farr – “_

 

\- Father.

_“But it is likely, for as you said – you are also Vulcan. I am not sure when, if it comes at all. I ask that you keep your health in mind. It is imperative that you do.”_

 

\- It is not that simple –

 

_“It is that simple. I have lost my planet. I have lost my wife. And I refuse to lose my son.”_

**_ CALL DISCONNECTED 1217.21 _ **

**.**

**.**

**.**

“Come in.” Spock gestured inside his house when he opened the door for M’Benga.

 

“Thank you.”

 

“I have beverages prepared, if you are amenable.”

 

“Certainly, Spock. I appreciate it.”

 

It was the way M’Benga immediately replied with a smile that made Spock question everything. “Are you sure, or is this the Terran custom I have recently come to discover - one that renders an individual to be obligated to accept all offerings.”

 

M’Benga’s laugh was foreign to Spock’s ears. It had been too long. “Kirk’s lesson rang true for many different cultures on Earth. But no, I actually would like a drink.”

 

Spock obliged and poured the tea into small cups. As he walked back to his breakfast table, M’Benga already made himself comfortable – his coat on his chair.

 

“It seems we have reached a complicated point in our lives. How are you holding up? And don’t say it’s _satisfactory_.” M’Benga said as he accepted his beverage.

 

“I am better.” It was an honest answer.

 

“Better than what?”

 

“Better than yesterday.”

 

M’Benga tilted his head, skeptical. “How does it feel?” He was clearly searching for something Spock had no knowledge of.

 

“Clarify.”

 

“How does it feel to walk in the streets with unknown human faces around you? Faces that you now realize are capable of not just hate, but of acting on that hate. How does it feel to watch the sun go down through your windows? How does it feel to see your future as undetermined? To not know of what to do next.”

 

The liquid burned his throat. He placed down his cup, and looked at M’Benga with a raised brow. There were a plethora of questions, and he easily discerned that M’Benga had more in store.

 

“How does it feel now that your mind doesn’t recognize that it had a bond? Like it never existed. Like _Kirk_ never existed?”

 

And there it was.

 

How was he supposed to respond to that? Was he supposed to say that he felt robbed? Stripped completely? His katra now vacant?

 

“You are correct. It feels …empty, therefore I feel nothing.”

 

“And that just kills you, Spock. So when I want to know how you’re holding up – please don’t say ‘ _better’_. I want to help you. It’s already enough that you avoided me and did your POST – SIM exam with McCoy.”

 

There was no denying that. “The fact that I feel nothing is for the better, M’Benga. Otherwise, Jim and I would be facing intolerable consequences in the real world. You know this.”

 

M’Benga took a longer sip of his tea, then did a little nod. “Okay, Spock.” He simply said.

 

Spock was unable to resist the urge to raise his eyebrow extremely high. The silence increased his curiosity … and daresay dread. “Is this what you wished to discuss?”

 

“Yes and no. I want to update my information regarding specific _facts_.” M’Benga reached to his suitcase and took out his PADD. “And I know more than that add-on, so don’t think you can trick me.”

 

Spock felt hands wring around his neck. “Add-on?”

 

M’Benga was preparing with one hand whilst waving his hand with the other, non-verbally answering his question.

 

Her name was Michelle. She had been in Starfleet for nine years. She was thirty-eight years of age, but the accelerated stress made her appear to be a decade older. Her skin easily burned under the sun. She had chestnut hair that had the ends stripped of its natural color, and she refused to fix it because she believed aesthetic to be the last of her priorities. She never cared for romance either, only for the health of her people.

 

She used to sleep in her closet.

 

She fixed his leg, and prevented the formation of any permanent scarring post scouting injuries. She desired to see the stars at least one more time. She was the reason Jim had proper medication.

 

Many believed her behavior to be rash, blunt and rude when in actuality - she was caring.

 

She tended to Spock when the world demanded his ashes.

 

Michelle Cardenas was an add-on.

 

Spock cleared his throat. “You are referring to Dr. Cardenas?”

 

“Yes, Spock.”

 

The first thing Spock saw was his own picture and general data on the side. The white words floated on the illuminating teal background … taunting him.

 

“Nothing has changed.” He informed, hoping to avoid this whole thing.

 

M’Benga was the one who lifted an eyebrow this time with a purse to his lips. He was irritated by Spock’s dismissal - that much was clear.

 

“Everything has changed. There are some things I’ve seen and heard, and I concealed my thoughts from the team because they were too personal, and they had no need for such information. None of them could come to the same conclusions anyways, simply because I have more knowledge, from my education and through Vulcans that have exclusively provided me with other intel.”

 

“And you require further information after what you have just seen.” It was not a question. The face Spock received was the one Markus would do when he said ‘ _duh’_. It was an expression when faced with the obvious. “The relationship I had with Jim concerns you.”

 

“Deeply.”

 

“Elaborate for me.”

 

“From what I know, Vulcans never engage in sexual activity until they have succeeded in a marital bond.”

 

True. “So your concerns are about what has taken place – “

 

“Yes. The Vulcan way isn’t about some stupid honor or purity, like many human customs. It’s done this way because it’s logical and –

 

“I am well aware of the customs – “

 

Nonetheless, M’Benga continued. “But it’s also done this way because any other alternative is a strenuous task, Spock. So strenuous, that some believe it to be impossible. It’s not supposed to be easy, and it’s _never_ considered in the beginnings of a partial bond. What you have done, Spock … Sex shouldn’t have been approached in that manner. Not at all.”

 

“What are you implying?” He knew exactly what M’Benga was implying. He just had zero interest in offering information unless it was specifically requested of him.

 

“You told me that you follow the Vulcan way - That this aspect of your life was Vulcan. That I shouldn’t worry about you and Lieutenant Uhura. Did you _lie_ to me?”

 

M’Benga was inquiring about his human half again.

 

“You did not hear what I said to Jim?”

 

“If this was right before or after coitus, then no.” M’Benga did one shake of his head. “We didn’t hear anything. It’s impossible to see everything anyways, censored or non-censored, Spock – especially when you guys stayed there for so long. Our presence was to oversee the bodies and handle any medical emergencies.”

 

“Then I will inform you that my first sexual encounter was in the SIM.”

 

Again, M’Benga appeared to be skeptical. His whole viewpoint about Spock’s honesty was put into question. “But the fact that you were capable so early in your relationship, means you lied. It was incredibly easy for you physically.”

 

Spock detested M’Benga observational skills. This was why.

 

“I’ll add to this by telling you that when you first brought Kirk to the base, you’ve avoided him. Then when he approached you, your eyes became dilated. Then your mood changed, Spock. You were rude to him at times, and I believe that this was because he made you reevaluate your - “

 

“I will not go into detail about your assumptions, but I never lied. This aspect of my life is indeed Vulcan.”

 

“But you choose for it to be. It’s not natural to you, is it?”

 

Spock stilled in his seat, carefully deliberating his next words. The doctor was correct, because this way of life was never natural. He had to work on it, meditate and distract himself with other tasks. Granted, he believed that his parents would have accepted this, because logically, he was not at fault. He was born this way, except Spock personally could not handle what this represented.

 

He was different.

 

And he was succeeding – until Jim arrived, turning all his efforts into shambles.

 

“…”

 

M’Benga saw it on his face with ease.

 

“This’s why I’m deeply concerned. So I will ask you the same questions we went over two years ago when you first got assigned to me. I know the real answers to most of these now, except I still need to hear them from you.”

 

Those questions were extremely personal. They were brought up when Spock was being fully examined to determine which portions of his adult body and brain were human and/or Vulcan. “You will be on the Enterprise, so any new information would not be yours to utilize.”

 

M’Benga’s sigh was a heavy one. “To be perfectly honest with you, I’m not a hundred percent sure of that anymore.”

 

“Why?”

 

“That’s another conversation. Now, these questions …”

 

“I would prefer to do this another time.”

 

“Do you get aroused?”

 

Spock shut his eyes and pushed his cup away. It was an immature appearance, and he did not care. He could not do this now. Yes, he could ask M’Benga to leave, but it would lead to a future conversation of this same topic.

 

“Doctor.”

 

M’Benga opened a blank window on the PADD, and then cracked his knuckles.

 

Spock shivered.

 

“Do. You. Get. Aroused?”

 

He had to do this now, especially if he never wanted to do this again. Ever.

 

“Affirmative.”

 

“Can you become erect as a result of this arousal without the influence of other substances, or exposure to any hormonal altering pathogens and/or chemicals?”

 

It was a fact about himself that he refused to make known. It was already enough that he had human eyes. At an early age, he had to deal with a second physical manifestation of his human emotions.

 

Spock made careful sure to keep his face blank. “Yes.”

 

“Have you personally tended to it at least once in your life?”

 

“Yes.” He answered, already cringing for future inquiries.

 

“Age of the first time you’ve indulged?”

 

Too young.

 

He had fought it off for one year after the initial discovery. But one year became the maximum his body could tolerate. He tested out his hypothesis, thus proving his theory correct.

 

This part of him was indeed human.

 

“Eleven days before I became seventeen Terran years of age.”

 

“Then ejaculation is possible upon orgasm - strictly brought upon by these means?”

 

Moments like these deserved the most derogatory of profanities. “Correct.”

 

The PADD screen became a bright amaranth red for two seconds, indicating that there was a new entry. “Spock, I’m going to tell you what you already know. You operate like a healthy sexual human male. One with the toughest willpower I’ve ever seen.”

 

“This is the way it has to be.”

 

“So why have you decided to retract your decision to continue as a full Vulcan would?”

 

Jim’s lustful thoughts, his blaring want to be ravished without mercy, and Spock’s desire to fulfill it all and more. Jim was not the only one starving.

His first human kiss in the SIM made it clear that this would be his path. The internal conflict barely lasted a minute. He made no mention of it when Dr. Cardenas offered him the kit. He made no mention of it when Jim passionately kissed him with explicit wishes resonating in their newly forming link.

 

Spock made no mention to any of it.

 

Instead …

_“Might I add, that there is more to kiss than just your captivating grape and strawberry sweetened mouth?”_

 

Oh how he had fallen.

 

M’Benga stared at him, patiently waiting for an answer.

 

“I was with a human. A human whom had needs.”

 

“Ms. Uhura’s human. She had needs.” M’Benga replied.

 

“It was different.”

 

“Was she different because you never had to explain anything to her? She required none, correct?” M’Benga accused. “You wanted to keep this… façade, and she knew of Vulcan customs already.”

 

He was indeed attracted to her, but not once had he entertained the fact that he would allow this human side of him to be exposed. She never expected it.

 

It would all occur in a timely, Vulcan manner. If his body wished to fight him about this, he fought. It was an endless war.

 

M’Benga continued, “You told me that she would be your bond mate one day.”

 

“I originally thought so.” Nyota was the best person to mate with before he met Jim. She was compatible, and she genuinely loved him in more ways than romantically. What fool would he have been to ignore that?

 

She was his comrade and his friend. It was the best decision at the time. Their dedication to each other, their bond to each other would not have only been amenable, but also exceptional.

 

They were partners.

 

It was exactly what he dreamed of.

 

But Jim … Jim made all these illogical feelings arise in him that he never thought capable. That he never thought existed.

 

Then he realized that they indeed never existed.

 

They came to be solely for Jim.

 

It was the kind of love he read about in pre-warp Terran literature. It was the kind that could destroy him and reassemble him in Jim’s image.

 

He worked too hard to deserve this.

 

Nonetheless, he still wanted it for the curse that it was.

 

“But the one person that made you reconsider everything, the one person that made you act this way, was a person you were never going to initiate a marital bond with, were you?”

 

“Never.”

 

“Because you thought you would die before him.”

 

“I was certain of it. The world was not one that permitted a long and prosperous life for the likes of me.” Spock was the result of blasphemy, the SIM add-ons declared, and he never forgot it.

 

“Then why’d you change your mind, Spock?”

 

It was a question Spock asked himself both in this world and the last. “… He desired for it. He was … persistent.” He weakly answered, knowing that it was only a fraction of the truthful one.

 

“Are you seriously going to just sit there and tell me that you didn’t either?”

 

He tried so hard since the first day Jim spoke of wanting full access to their bridge. Although Jim wasn’t fully knowledgeable about the topic, the hopefulness in Jim’s tone ate at him.

 

Now that he had returned to the real world, he could differentiate Nyota and Jim’s intentions. Nyota always expected a marital bond in their future. She barely spoke of it. It was an inevitable path for them.

 

Except, there were times when he believed she was hesitant. It was clear that it made her wary because of the commitment. To her, the bond would not have been ‘access’ but an invasion, an elimination of privacy.

 

A loss of individuality.

 

It was Nyota that spoke of marriage and how she desired for that first when the time came. A bond was not fully necessary until after that.

 

Their problems began soon after.

 

Her dedication was certain, however Spock saw it for what it was. Granted, human bonds were significant, but one thing remained. There was always an escape – an exit strategy – a leeway to alter affections.

 

But Jim ... Jim was just as hesitant as Nyota, in fact … he was terrified because he felt the beginnings of it already in place. And yet, he never cared enough for that to steer him away from his primary objective. Spock viewed Jim’s mind with simple touches, and those same yearning remarks continued to ring true.

 

Despite everything, Jim fought _him_ for this.

 

Someone in this universe fought him for him. If he were told of this by anyone, even his counterpart – he would have refused to believe it.

 

“You knew it was illogical, Spock.” M’Benga continued to poke, and poke and poke. “So you need to tell me why you finally – “

 

“He was _fading_.” Spock confessed a little louder than he wished.

 

He wanted to take it back. M’Benga’s features froze at the confession.

 

“The voices in my mind, the ones that belonged to him became whispers. He would look at me, and there were moments too many that I had to guess. I had to guess if Jim’s emotions were genuine – Imagine guessing if the one you cared for was truly tempted to just walk out one evening as you slept?”

 

“Spock – “

 

“My handicap was one I could no longer withstand. Yes, there was substantial risk – except the risk took refuge within our walls. Nothing was safe. Strategy and skill became obsolete. The minutes in our lives were a rarity.”

 

M’Benga sat back and listened with saddened eyes. ”Kirk’s end became just as likely as yours.”

 

“There was no logical reason to further deny our wish. The reality of our predicament was cruel. I knew the complete absence of Jim was inevitable, but I feared it all the same. Not being able to see him became synonymous to believing that he was deceased. All this happened after eight days of zero contact. Eight days, nine hours and two minutes was all it took for everything we built to disappear.”

 

Understanding warmed over M’Benga. “And you never wanted to experience that again.”

 

“I made it so that it would be impossible.”

 

“Spock, I hope you’re more honest with me for now on.” M’Benga picked up his cup again with a slouch. “I really do, because now I can take care of you like I’m supposed to.”

 

Spock saw more than that. “You still appear to be worried.”

 

“I am. Our Captain is our Captain. He was also for a time, your bond mate. He was your spouse – the one you had chosen to live the rest of your life beside. He touched your katra – So yes, I’m worried because you now know what you’ve been missing.” M’Benga’s leaned forward, his posture more relaxed as if he already accepted the troubles ahead. “That willpower you’ve built through your years is going to be put to the test, my friend.”

 

Spock gulped in response, listening intently. So far, he never thought of it like that.

 

“For now, and perhaps for a while, you’re going to ignore your body. You’re going to do this because to think of anything … to give in to anything else is going to be perceived as an insult to Kirk’s memory. I say this, because I know you.”

 

“Doctor – “

 

“So, I’m here, right now to remind you that such a thing is impossible, and not one of the memories that Kirk has provided you with will tarnish the love you have.” M’Benga said with a tired sigh. “Just don’t … don’t torture yourself.”

 

And they both were aware that no amount of meditation could ease him through this crisis. It was yet another day in the real world, and Viik’s assertions in his mind remained ceaseless.

 

The wish to achieve normality was an idiotic one.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Still under desk*


	50. POST SIM - PART EIGHTEEN

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The 50th chapter is here!  
> It has been over a month since my last update.  
> I apologize for the long delay. Real life can be very trying at times.  
> I confess - I lost inspiration as a result of all the accumulated stress.  
> But no worries – I have returned!
> 
> Warning: Jim’s mixed up conscious & my cryptic plot methods.  
> Song: Satellite - Tritonal (feat. Jonathan Mendelsohn) [Metamorphic Downtempo Mix]
> 
> Much love,  
> ~X

** POST SIM - PART EIGHTEEN  
**

**Spock’s doing better.**

**Physically at least.**

**He completed his POST-SIM exam.**

**Signed and sealed.**

**Reminder: The world is safe.**

**You’re safe.**

**-LM**

 

It's been two long, long days.

 

Jim wasn’t the least bit surprised when he saw McCoy’s craft on his driveway. McCoy was supposed to be taking advantage of his free time. Instead, he was sitting on Jim's living room couch, browsing on his PADD. He wasn’t surprised when his friend then asked him where he was all day, instead of a ‘hello’ either.

 

“Hey to you too.” Jim spoke the first words as he took off his sweater and put it inside the closet near his door.

 

“Don’t ‘hey’ me.” McCoy grumbled, dropping his PADD on the side of the cushion.

 

“Maybe I should restrict your access too, so when the door opens, you’re forced to give me an actual greeting.”

 

**I almost punched a kid.**

**He snapped a picture of us.**

**It wasn’t the picture that angered me.**

**It was seeing Spock flinch because of it.**

**How are you with flash?**

**Keep the lights low.**

**Spock does.**

**I guess it helps.**

**\- LM**

 

 McCoy peaked his brow as high as possible. “You're forgetting that I could just barge in.”

 

“No."  Jim replied, curving his lips a bit. "No, you wouldn't.”

**Just got back to Spock’s.**

**M’Benga returned home.**

**Need me? You know where I am.**

**\- LM**

 

McCoy contemplated on that for a moment. It wasn’t long before he nodded with a defeated exhale. Jim was right, and McCoy knew it.

**.**

**.**

**.**

_Gregory and Edmond were both sitting behind the elongated table with contorted expressions as their squinted eyes bored onto the picture on Gregory’s PADD screen. It was as if they could shoot plasma blasts from their corneas._

_“You guys wanted me to give you something.” Jim said when they refused to speak for all of four minutes. He held onto his empty coffee cup and cleared his throat to remind the Dhars that he was still in the room._

_They haven’t said a word since Jim opened up the image that was already online and would forever remain there, burning a whole into the World Wide Web. It was for that reason that he never bothered to print the blasted thing._

_“I have more ammunition, but I won't make the mistake of assuming that this isn't important." Jim added.  
_

_They just blinked at the illuminating device, then at Jim, trying to detect some similarities to one of the nine faces on the screen._

_“Since none of you have asked yet, I’m the one in the corner. The last one.” He pointed out, still waiting for a reply of some sort. He wasn’t the only blond there after all. “The one who has his arms locked with one of the girls. You’ll see, she’s the tallest. The oldest I always presumed.”_

_She was the only one people actually cared about, however that was only ever since the election._

_Soon, Edmond stood up from his seat, opening his comm with a slight sway of his body. Jim watched him from the corner of his eye and clutched on his coffee cup tighter._

_“Hey.” Edmond began. “Franky, I have news - "  
_

_“The girl … “ Gregory whispered once Edmond was out of earshot.  
_

_“Before you ask. I don’t know.” Jim’s assumptions were never proven, but it didn’t take a genius to put two and two together. This had nothing to do with Aretha Jin though. Only him._

_This was not her field. Jim hardly knew if she cared._

_He didn’t know her anyway._

_It was of no matter that she was the survivor that held onto him when they got rescued. Insignificant that she was the one who never let him go until they finally arrived back to Earth. He refused to shower on the rescue ship, for the fear of separating from her. It was the first time he saw her, and it was also the last … until he saw her matured face five years ago on the holoscreen and time and time again ever since._

_He didn’t know her at all._

_“Lying doesn’t suit your pretty face, Captain.”_

_The glint in Gregory’s eyes made Jim perfectly aware that him and Edmond knew too much. They acted like they had unlimited access to every branded confidential document._

_“I won’t ask you about the rest, since you say you know nothing of them. Also, they aren’t of interest to us at this current time. You are our interest, and this picture is just perfect.” Gregory earnestly smiled. It was one Jim could tell was incredibly rare._

_It was an unnerving one._

_Gregory continued, “It’s a picture that only shows up in lecture halls and on PADDs in the midst of research on history, but now … it’ll be a picture that will once again grace every screen on the globe. You sir, have delivered.”_

**.**

**.**

**.**

 

Jim opened his fridge and started to place some of the items he bought into it. He wished he grabbed some grapes along the way. When he walked passed them in the market, he didn’t have it in him to buy them at all.

 

As he continued his task, he could feel a familiar aura of distaste behind his back.

 

“Just spit it out, Bones.”

 

**Called you again.**

**I’m not a fan of you taking too many naps, but you obviously need them this time.**

**Sleep is the only excuse for ignoring me.**

**Anything else & you’re in trouble.**

**\- LM**

 

McCoy tilted his head, and watched Jim with a careful eye. “You’ve been gone for a whole day. That's excluding the fact that your communication skills leave a lot to be desired."

 

"You make it sound like I was missing in action."  Jim retorted monotonously. “I was busy.”

 

“And I know that.” It was apparent that McCoy wasn’t going to let this rest. “But that's no excuse for barely answering your comm.”

Jim did answer his comm. He answered to everything business related at least. Then again ... He didn't during his meetings with the Dhars. "I had to turn it off.”

 

“Because you can’t handle your crew asking you questions?” McCoy deduced with little to no difficulty.

 

Jim didn’t bother fooling McCoy. “Exactly. I mean, I talk to them, but they’re asking too much. Nothing seems to be enough for them.” How was Jim supposed to explain things when he had trouble sorting it out himself?

 

He confessed to them that Spock was pending transfer.

 

It’s not as if he was fully silent. As Captain, he couldn’t afford to be. Also, for the cherry on top, it seemed that Spock placed the rest of the crew in some kind of blackout, because they sure weren’t receiving answers from Spock either.

 

So far, he’s been writing recommendations for those that were being transferred out, and looking over scores to get some kind of idea as to why they had to leave. He’s also been scheduling interviews for officers that were pending for the Enterprise, and so far has rejected five. 

He's exchanged messages with Scotty in regards to the new engineering team so that the Chief Engineer didn’t end up with someone that would … well, so far, thing’s have been a success.

 

Jim guessed it was because the SIM compatibility results were accurate.

 

It was the cursed program – the kidnapping murderer in the ice cream truck with all the sweets and smiles, knives hidden in the storage.

 

Those five rejections were a result of Jim's gut feeling.

 

Computers never had gut feelings.

 

Despite all his efforts, his crew was making him out to be some lazy ghost … all because they required more information about Spock. If he got asked one more time, he feared that he would just expel all sorts of inappropriate comments, yells of hopelessness, followed by exposing vulnerabilities imposed by the broken heart.

 

“They’re confused.” McCoy huffed. “Uhura might just stop her travels and come back here to check up on you guys because of this childish silence.”

 

“I don’t get why they’re confused. I just told everyone that they’re off SIM duty. I told them to have fun, not to stop it and be immersed in my business,” The tension in Jim’s shoulders would definitely make him sore. He could have had the food delivered to his house, but he decided against it. His need for air turned out to be a bad idea. He felt like he ran a marathon.

“And why would Uhura ruin her vacation? She wasn’t even assigned SIM duty? She’s been talking about that list of hers since before we got off the Enterprise. Heck, I would have come along if I wasn’t puking so much, with every medication you can name pumping through my veins.”

 

McCoy shook his head, dissatisfied. “Jim … why are we off SIM duty?”

 

“I can’t take you off yours since your position was appointed by the Admirals, but I can tell you to not bother reporting summaries to me. We both know that wasn't a common practice in the first place.” There were times when Jim wondered how the previous Captains endured this, creating hundreds of their own summaries, looking over a million numbers whilst watching the horror on the screens – all without the support of their crew. “Trust me, if I could get you far away from this, I would.”

 

He almost wanted to sabotage McCoy, so that he had no more SIM related duties. Obviously, it would not come to that.

 

He could only wish that McCoy would come to that decision on his own.

 

“If you don’t get your summaries, you’ll end up reading thousands of pages worth of transcripts and having your eyes glued to days of footage.”

 

“Okay.”

 

The calmness of Jim’s response stunned McCoy. “Then you’re going to watch them, aren’t you?” He concluded, hesitant of Jim’s answer.

 

“Nope.” Of course Jim wouldn’t go back on his word. “I promised them all. I’m not the only one either.”

 

“Then what the hell, Jim?!” McCoy barked in relief, and yet, still in irritation from being mentally bombarded by so many unanswered questions.

 

“I’m not fully naked here.” Jim replied in an unvarying tone. “I’ll still have the scores.”

 

“Which we know damn well is just a bunch of numbers that don’t even scratch the surface. You need to know the whys, the hows, and the motivations behind each action. This is why summaries are important. This is why our SIM duties are important!” McCoy moved the bottom of his jaw like that of a camel. “Context is everything, Jim. An officer could have one kill count, and be the worst person to walk through a ship, whereas your kill count … it’s - "

 

"It's what?" Jim interjected with a daring stare. He could do a decent estimate from the Camp Salvatus deaths, however he lost count of those prior to joining it. It was survival. He didn’t bother tallying them up. In the SIM, he wasn't some child holding onto his sentiment any more. He learned his lessons.

 

"We’re human, and we can’t be shoved into stats and categories, Jim.”

 

“It’ll all be fine.”

 

If everything worked out, he wouldn’t receive another SIM reports, because no one would be taking them.

 

Or very few that it wouldn’t be fully time consuming.

 

Shit, the thought of it was the spoon that stirred his adrenaline.

 

**I lied.**

**I don’t think Spock will be better in the immediate future, let alone now.**

**He says he’s going to meditate – then comes out of his room minutes later.**

**Minutes?**

**\- LM**

 

“Well, I guess it’s all kum ba yah then.” With stretched out arms and open palms, McCoy squinted at Jim for a few moments, soon flinching as if he came across crucial information. His jaw fell. “Oh, no.  No, no Jim. You’re planning something.”

 

McCoy would try to stop him. So would Spock - At least in the first stages.

 

The risk was too high to cave in now.

 

Jim swallowed. “I’m not.”

 

He couldn’t have been more obvious.

 

**.**

**.**

**.**

 

_Those canine teeth were so sharp on Gregory; Jim thought it had a predacious characteristic to it._

_Edmond walked to a corner of the room, and gave Jim a quick curious glance before returning back to his call. “Yes, Franky – I’m not lying here. Pull up whatever you can. Yes – just send it over. Will you stay here long? Good, ‘cause you’re not leaving me. Come by tonight. This is no longer a lost cause.”_

_This was an odd scenario. Jim kind of expected variations of sympathies, or some stupid condolences and whatnot. Instead, he was met with men that looked as if they found the gold at the end of the rainbow after millennia of scouring for it desperately._

_There was a flicker of sadness, except it was instantly washed away – It could have been easily imagined._

_Gregory pulled down the end of his blazer and trod right up to Jim. He was so close, Jim half-expected the man to sit on his lap._

_“For confirmation’s sake – this is you?” Gregory pointed to the end of the picture and showed it to Jim after he bent down closer._

_Jim responded with a gulp and a nod._

_The PADD was then tossed back onto his lap._

_“I’ll let you know that we have the means to confirm this. We have the means to look up whatever we like, however we like. Whatever you seem to believe is a secret, will cease to be if we’re determined to expose it.”_

_That was indeed creepy. Especially since the Dhar was speaking of possible Federation records. “I don’t doubt that.” He really didn’t._

_Another little smirk showed in the corner of Gregory’s lips before he walked back to his part of the table, leaving the PADD to heat Jim’s lap._

_The man’s ability to immediately switch up his mood was very peculiar._

_“Franky’s in.” Edmond announced when he ended the call._

_Jim took a wild guess. “Franklin Mason?” In retrospect, he shouldn’t’ have been surprised. The man was sighted with Edmond prior Jim’s SIM._

_“You won’t see him much, if at all.” Edmond said, like he was assuring Jim. “Besides him, others will work on this – not just us. Our team is bigger than you think.”_

_Not too big he hoped. “I will be informed of exactly whom you intend to include. I also expect to be informed of all updates, and I won’t tolerate any surprises that could have been easily prevented.” Jim cocked his head at them. “You said I wouldn’t be your guinea pig, nor do I wish to be. You need me just as much as I need you. Let’s treat this relationship as such.”_

_And he did need them. This was too delicate to jump right ahead without their particular expertise._

_Gregory turned to Edmond. “Father?”_

_“He’s perfect.” Edmond answered the underlying question._

_“Indeed he is.”_

_Jim was correct in his original assumption. These guys were dragons and Jim was more than happy for them to eat him up if he got what he wanted in the end._

_And he wanted many things._

_He wanted his crew mentally in tact. He wanted the future officers to not dread their future more than they already had to. He wanted everything to return back to normal. He wanted things fixed._

_The back of his mind kept screaming ‘Spock’ in an irritating hum, but he ignored it. This was for the many, not for the one._

_Not even himself._

 

**.**

**.**

**.**

 

McCoy walked around the counter and further into the kitchen. He was prowling his prey, and his prey was Jim.

“ _’Nothing’_ , you say?”

 

Jim didn’t want to say much of anything. At least not now. He had a tendency to be an open book in McCoy’s presence. That’s what normally happened when one lived with someone for years.

 

“Do you want some cheesecake? I got cheesecake.” He announced instead.

 

“Jim.” McCoy warned in a lower tone that made it clear that Jim shouldn’t be playing with him like this.

**  
**

**He hasn’t made one sneaky remark all day.**

**Not a single one.**

**\- LM**

 

But Jim wasn’t playing. He was merely giving McCoy some leeway to abandon those edging questions he knew his friend itched to iterate. “They come in strawberry, chocolate, vanilla bean and caramel. Do you want the caramel ones? I might just throw those away.”

 

“Which conversation are you avoiding exactly?”

 

Damn this man for knowing too much.

 

McCoy crossed his arms with a gruff, ignoring Jim’s delicacy filled offers. “Is it the one about you being missing all day, or the one about Spock, ‘cause you sure didn’t answer a single message today.”

 

Spock was in his mind twenty-four seven. He couldn’t handle Bones adding more Spock related stuff in his already Spock filled head. “We could make smoothies. Watch a movie? There’s an interesting one that just came out. It has to do with a fish that can talk and she’s trying to find her parents. She’s blue and cute as hell.”

 

McCoy wasn’t having it today. “Or maybe you’re avoiding the conversation about what I heard in the SIM and/or your past, or the one about the Academy students withdrawing at alarming levels – or the one about the media poking at you and Spock to say something when you’re not even obligated to do so?”

 

The new blog articles and news channels, especially the Your Life Tonight segments weren’t the only ones that troubled Jim. The statistics, mostly the ones pertaining to certain alien species with telepathy made him certain that Celine Varra’s sources were people to be awed over.

 

Then again, he bet it wasn’t that hard to gather great sources when Starfleet was antagonizing everyone.

 

Jim was about to turn on them himself.

 

**I’m heading to your place.**

**See you then.**

**\- LM**

 

Jim didn’t miss that Spock’s father was in town either.

 

Great…

 

It was another conversation that could wait, because soon – Jim would commit career suicide. “I met the nicest lady near the bread aisle. She even told me that she cooks each meal because her twin sons in the Academy are graduating this year, and she’s scared of the food on the ships. I had to spend hours telling her that we don’t actually eat plastic.”

 

“Jim!”

 

The yell of his name made him crack. He slammed the fridge door. “What?!”

 

Clearly that was the last thing McCoy expected from Jim, if the minuscule wince was anything to go on.

 

“I don’t want to dwell on the past.” Jim settled.

 

“The past?” McCoy incredulously looked at Jim. “As in the last eight months on Earth, or the year and seven months of SIM?”

 

“All of it!”

 

“Jim …”

 

“Look. I see the news. I’m not completely oblivious to what’s happening around us. I know what the people want from Starfleet, from Spock and me. I know what’s going on in the Academy. I know you want to talk about my SIM and some parts of my life, and that it’s eating you up inside by the very fact that I didn’t tell you about Tarsus.”

 

McCoy looked away with a tightened jaw.

 

“I know what everyone wants to know. And now, you need to just trust me when I say I’m fine.” Jim knew he would be fine in the future at least.

 

“This is bullshit.” McCoy hissed under his breath as he walked out of kitchen, finally giving Jim some space.

 

“Bones – “

 

“No. Nothing is fine, Jim. Everything’s tumblin’ down on us. Your health was supposed to be the most time consuming and hardest issue to tackle, but instead I’m dealing with that, your SIM, Spock’s current condition and that of the entire bridge crew.”

 

That statement couldn't have been more accurate.

 

“Did you know that Sulu spaces off into nothing, and Scott said that he would probably marry Keenser because new relationships are too risky? Uhura disappeared into some unknown country even though she had the most straightforward SIM, Jim.” McCoy paused, wiping his face. “Why are we waiting for the rest to be tested so that we can finally go on our voyage, when we’ll kill each other up there, if not ourselves? Because as far as I know, Lemli is the only one who can function properly, and that’s because he’s already a shell of a soldier!”

 

Resting his palms on one of the couches, McCoy leaned forward, looking like he needed a decent hug. His hair was tussled, his eye bags more prominent and his voice raspier than ever. His clothes were in need of a decent ironing too.

 

Jim was too busy wallowing in his own despair and absorbed by his goal, he unknowingly pushed aside his friend. He has tried to be there for Bones, but to do so was a hard task. Every attempt to discuss the elephant in the room was immediately halted. Ever since McCoy completed his test, he never wanted to talk about his problems, always asking Jim to not push for SIM details, and so Jim followed those instructions because he acknowledged that people were sometimes in need of space.

In the end, Bones never asked Jim to distance himself entirely. Providing distance and removing oneself completely were two different things. The damage of it all was a slap to the face.

 

McCoy blinked. “Lord, I haven’t even had the time to tell you that I’ve missed you yet, and we’re already arguing.”

 

**You’re not here.**

**Hope everything’s okay.**

**I’ll just wait inside.**

**\- LM**

 

“I just have so much on my plate,” Jim said in a softer tone. “I gave you space without question after your SIM."

 

The scoff bounced off each wall. "And you want me to give you the same courtesy?"

 

"Yes."

 

McCoy didn't agree. "It's not the same, Jim." 

 

It fucking was. "Yes, it is. That's what friends do. They respect each others -"

 

"I'm your damn doctor!"

 

"And 'friend', idiot!" 

 

McCoy shifted his eyes away again. It looked like it could have been an eye roll.

 

"Are you putting that into question right now?" Jim dared to ask.

 

“I shouldn’t?” The speculation rang clear.

 

Jim could have sworn his heart shut down with the doubt he saw on McCoy’s face. It didn’t help that it was in a fragile state already. “You shouldn’t…”

 

McCoy’s shoulders slumped. “… Then where were you today?”

 

It was an ultimatum.

 

For a second, Jim actually thought of telling the truth. It was in that next second that he realized that he was doing everyone a favor by keeping quiet. McCoy would try to talk him out of his plan, and Jim was nervous that he might even succeed.

 

As much as McCoy denied it, his advice and opinions did mean a lot to Jim.

 

“Like I said. I just needed air.”

 

McCoy nodded his head and headed to his bag on the couch. Jim instantly knew he messed up.

 

“Here’s a few sleeping pills as substitute. I'll bring your refills for the other medications in a week's time.” McCoy said as he took out a small box and tossed it onto a cushion. “I told myself I wouldn’t bring these pills, but I guess I caved. I brought some mineral water. They worked wonders with Spock. I would have texted you that, but we both know you’re not reading those.”

 

That was an unnecessary jibe.

 

“Bones.” Jim called to McCoy’s retreating back.

 

“You can call me anytime.” McCoy huffed dismissively.

 

How was it that Jim ruined all his relationships? It happened all the damn time. He realized that he really didn't want McCoy to go. “So you’re just going to leave?”

 

“Yes, 'cause I’m going to go home. Hopefully, my mind will remember where that is."

 

Jim had absolutely nothing to say to that.

 

“And I suggest you call Spock. You're takin' your sweet time, and I told you that you were the one that had to reach out first." McCoy reminded. "Before you know it, the hobgoblin might be broken.”

 

The skin piercing words and the hiss of his door delivered the final stab, and this one was fatal.

 

**.**

**.**

**.**

_The Dhars were insane._

_Positively, absolutely insane._

_“That … that’s your magnificent plan?!?” Jim could have choked after listening to what those two minds concocted after getting off the video-conference with Franklin and Franklin’s two associates. “Jackson wasn’t even this crazy.”_

_“It’s practically invincible.”_

_Nothing was invincible. Not even the Enterprise._

_Jim shot a glare – one that was coated in all his manifesting doubt._

_Edmond pulled back a fallen silver strand from his coal eyes. “It’ll fail only if you’re discredited. From your scores, you’re anything but – “_

_“But – “ Jim mumbled, still trying to grasp this entire conversation. Three meetings and hours of conversation, it was all getting too real. “What if. What if my words are just that - Just words. Not some pathway into the light.”_

_Gregory slowly tilted his head. “And what if it is, Mr. Kirk?”_

_Spock’s tendency to mention statistics would have been great right about now. The numbers wouldn’t have been what he preferred to hear, but it was at least something to work on. It was always the truth._

_This … this could slingshot in whichever direction in Jim’s sleep, which was a terrifying aspect._

_“Then I guess we win.” Determination was all he would allow to fuel him for the upcoming days. He dragged his vocals to admit it, shifting his thoughts to the positive._

_He had to believe._

_If he didn’t, then who would?_

_Not a damn soul._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~X


	51. POST SIM - PART EIGHTEEN (2)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m back!  
> This is more of a filler chapter.  
> The next one will be updated really soon.  
> Song: Billy Lockett - Wide Eyed (Vacant Remix)  
> Warning: *sweats nervously* extreme xenophobia.  
> Enjoy!
> 
> ~X

** POST SIM - PART EIGHTEEN (2)  
**

 

“Record audio message.”

 

_Recording in 3…2…1_

 

“Hey … I don’t know if you even want to hear my voice or anything. I was just curious to know what your future plans are, and if that includes going to New Vulcan… No, no. Erase Message.”

 

_Message erased._

 

“Start recording again.”

 

_Would you prefer to select the recipient prior to recording again?_

 

“Send to Mr. Spock. “

 

_‘Mr. Spock’ has been selected._

_Recording in 3…2…1_

“I can’t look at the stars. … Can you? I mean - I know I’ll have to eventually, except all I see are weapons waiting to come back again. I admit that I sometimes think of you watching them with me. Sounds silly.

How are you? Really – How are you? I’m not just curious. I’m also concerned … I know this is random. I just hope you find the time to talk to me … - Could I sound more pitiful? Erase message. Start again.”

 

_Recording in 3…2…1_

 

“I didn’t mean what I said. Shit, no. I do, but not the ‘I hate you’ part. I could never hate you. I … I love y – Erase message.”

 

_Recording in 3…2…1_

“It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have just assumed that things would continue as they were. Okay? It was wrong of me to presume you would act illogically. We’re in a tight spot. Just because we were removed from an apocalypse, doesn’t equate to us entering heaven.

But then again, I thought I was worth an illogical act here or there. I mean we were created from circumstances that couldn't have deviated further from logic … God, Spock –

You and Bones have this perception that I would hate you sometime in the distant future if you agreed to my proposal, but you won’t even give us the chance. Fuck. I’m just talking nonsense.

He doesn’t need to hear this. Erase message.”

 

_Recording in 3…2…1_

“Hello, Spock. I hear you have trouble meditating. I don’t see how, since your telepathy is back. Do you have trouble sleeping too? I do. But when I actually do, I dream, Spock. I dream of a foreign terrain on a planet that doesn’t exist anymore.

I can feel sand under my fingernails. Not the sand of death, but … the red sand you allowed me to rest on - The sand that became our mattresses as we gazed to the naked sky. It was the first night sky I’ve seen in a year.

Is it weird to miss something that wasn’t mine? To miss a woman that I never met? Is it wrong to mourn missed opportunities? Is it wrong for all of this to make me want to weep like some child? I knew you and your people were in pain, but the pain I thought I couldn't imagine is forming in brief flickers. There's this weight on my heart when there shouldn't be. I’m home. I called my mom, and … you can’t, Spock…”

 

_Send message?_

 

“No! Erase the damn message!”

 

_Recording in 3…2…1_

 

“… Okay, Spock. I’m going to do something that I’m sure will make you pull out all your hair. Literally. Will you stay quiet or be by my side? Just so you’re clear, I’m not doing this so we have a chance. I’m doing this for everyone involved and for future generations.

This fame we hate to talk about can actually be used for good. It’ll be … it’ll be terrifying. I'll admit that. I could get removed for bad conduct if I don’t do this right, which is something you feared. It’ll be insane, especially when I bare myself out to the world. I’m going to … I’m gonna be … Erase message.”

 

_Recording in 3…2…1_

“I miss you. I know I shouldn’t since it’s been a short while, but I miss you so much. I’m craving to just see you. It’s this itch Spock, and I can’t get rid of it. … Did you lock me out yet? I wouldn’t blame you if you did.

I miss you. I miss your soothing words, your mind and your – Erase message.”

 

_Recording in 3…2…1_

 

“I’m better than this. I’m more than this. The day I signed on Starfleet was the day I decided that I would reach my maximum potential. My life experiences shouldn’t have to hinder my successes. Look at Aretha Jin for fuck’s sake. Only a few have seen her like I have, all dirty and injured – deteriorated from the hunt. Now, she’s second to the President of the United States.

Now look at me. This, this is what I wanted. I’m supposed to be celebrating, Spock. I defied that stupid council and everything they thought of me when they put my name on that fucking list.

But I can’t be excited that I got assigned the longest mission. I was robbed of that opportunity. Deep space, Spock. Uncharted territory. Discovering the temporarily hidden. Remember? My mind’s not allowing me the luxury of being excited that I’m the youngest Captain either, nooo –

I have to be some ill lovesick puppy to the most unattainable person on this planet.

I really do hate you. I just – ! Erase Message!”

 

_Recording in 3…2…1_

 

“I meant it. I hate you, Spock. I hate what you did to me. I told myself I would be alone. Who needs romantic love when I have love all around me, right? I was content with it. After all, my conjectures regarding romantic love are pretty much accurate.

I never needed to be subjected to heartbreak to know exactly what it could easily do. I saw it happen to too many. They dropped like flies because of this love. I saw it happen to my own _mother_.

I hate you, because you made me fall in love with you. Not some measly crush I could quash - Not some screw on the side as a method of getting over our misery.

And here’s what I detest the most - You didn’t have to try! I hate your wisdom, your moral built of tungsten and your room sucking presence. I hate the way your coat sways to the side as you march down each corridor. I hate the careful consideration of those around you. I hate how you have more faith in humanity than I do.

I hate how you’ve rendered me weak.

I’m James Tiberius Kirk, so I think I have a decent chance of getting an abundance of lovers – and I was perfectly okay with being somebody’s lay for the rest of my life. But that wasn’t enough, was it? – I had to get _married_. I fucking got married. You weren’t the one whom mentioned it, I did!

I did. I actually ...

I exposed my soul for you, and you stomped on it. I hate you, your stupid pointed ears and smug smirks.

Here I am, unable to compose a decent message. I’m a mess. Not only that, S’chn T’gai Spock – you've made me a statistic! I joined the freakin’ statistic!

I’m a fly in a pile of flies.”

 

_Maximum audio duration has been reached._

_Send message?_

 

“Hell no. … Erase message.”

 

_Recording in 3…2…1_

“Fucking shit to the depths of hell. Fuck the fucking hell out of this fucking shit. Should I just shove my head in some quicksand for fuck’s sake? … Why the fuck am I laughing?

Is it because I’m pacing in my living room, unable to go into the guest room? The door may as well have electric wires! I freakin’ cleaned it out, and it’s as if you branded it. You branded my fucking house, Spock! What have I done to deserve this raggedy shit of this fucking cluster bundle called feelings – “

 

_Excessive use of profanities detected._

 

_Message deleted._

 

“And who are you to do that?!!”

 

_The programming is meant to detect profanities and delete them once they compose over thirty percent of the -  
_

 

“Why did I do that again?”

 

_To prevent yourself from sending audio messages with said content. Inebriation is likely once immoderate imprecations have been detected -_

 

“I’m not drunk…”

_Noted._

_Recording in 3…2…1_

 

“Hello, Spock. Despite our differences, I just want to say thank you. What I said wasn’t fair. You didn’t deserve that.

You kept your promise, and for that – I’m forever in your debt. I accept your decision –

I don’t think it sounds like I’m trying. Erase message.”

 

_Recording in 3…2…1_

“I can’t ever accept this decision. I’ll fight for you, and once this whole thing blows over, there’ll be nothing to stop us from scouring into this Universe, which happens to have the weirdest humor. And yes, she’s still a sentient being in my scrambled mind. Just like our ship. She’s mine, and she’s yours … She’s yours too …Erase message.”

 

_Recording in 3…2…1_

 

“Our SIM file is finally in. I’ve watched some footage, and all I can think of is that the Chief and Lightrunner are dead.

Those people don’t exist anymore.

And our friends were just add-ons.

God, I fucking hate that term. ‘Add-ons’, my ass.

I know you never felt them through your telepathy, but I can see that you had a human connection with them. Honestly, their absence irritates my skin, tearing it open. This isn’t a way to live.

It’s just not.

It's as if my mind has yet to fully recalibrate.

Do you miss them, Spock? Or do you see them as add-ons too?

It’s illogical to miss pixels, right?

No.

Computer – “

_Message erased._

_Recording session has ceased._

“What? Why?”

 

_All audio messages have proven unsatisfactory and alarming. It would be more amenable to resume at a later time, preferably once you have decided on a finalized message for ‘Mr. Spock.’_

“Fine. … Also, please change your voice… Why am I saying ‘please’? You’re a computer. I swear that SIM melted my brain.”

_Command did not register._

 

“Alter computer voice.”

 

_Would you prefer a male?_

 

“Sure.”

_Is this to your liking?_

 

“Add an accent.”

 

_Region of origin?_

 

“Australia.”

 

_Current voice is the finalized version._

 

“Perfect.”

**.**

**.**

**.**

  

 

 

 

> _** COMMENCING SIM 9273SK91720 ** _
> 
> ** … DAY (58) SELECTED.  **

 

_[ **Add-On (27K8):** Eh! You don’t speak, boy?_

**_James:_ ** _…_

 **_Add-On (27K8):_ ** _So the world goes to shit and you lost your manners? Wait – where’d you think you’re headin’?_

 **_Add-On (00K8):_ ** _We’re talkin’ to ya, boy._

 **_Add-On (27K8):_ ** _I don’t think it speaks._

 **_James:_ ** _It’ll be in your better interest to move aside._

 **_Add-On (00K8):_ ** _Or what? You’ll kill us?_

 **_Add-On (27K8):_ ** _Look at him? He thinks he can take us. You gonna kill us, boy?_

 **_James:_ ** _I won’t kill you._

 **_Add-On (27K8):_ ** _Oh, really? So you’ll just sprinkle faerie dust so that we’ll walk away- Fuck!_

 **_Add-On (00K8):_ ** _What the – Get off me! You little shit!_

 **_Add-On (27K8):_ ** _You – you can’t take that!_

 **_James:_ ** _Pleasure doing business with you._

 **_Add-On (27K8):_ ** _You fuckin’ thief! There’s no shelter for miles out and it’s almost nightfall. Don’t leave – where are you – Shit, shit, shit – Don’t leave us here!_

 **_Add-On (00K8):_ ** _You’ll kill us!!_

 **_James:_ ** _I didn’t kill you. The lights did, and dead men don’t need their wheels._

 **_Add-On (00K8):_ ** _We're still alive!_

_**James:** Not for long.]_

 

Those punks were just men that probably had nothing going for them until all order was crushed below their feet, taking advantage of the chaos and testing out the renewed territory. The intelligence of an individual mattered, but not as much as brawn. Intelligence and brawn however, that was a combination that threatened those smart enough to understand its importance.

 

Jim took pride that he was one of those.

 

All in all, DAY 58 was the third SIM day he viewed today alone. He told himself that he would just watch one in his little free time, then it became three. The night was old, and he grew tired. Luckily, the SIM day was almost complete.

                                                                                                                         

DAY 58 was ending with SIM Jim sitting on his floor, preparing to make his latest recording, all while ignoring the low screams in the background. He never looked outside of his window. Why would he? He knew all he would see was smoke.

 

Jim sighed, swirling the mineral water in his cup. He listened to himself click the recording button on his marmalade device.

 

“Captain’s log,” He began for his SIM counterpart.

 

_[ **James:** I got a hovercraft today. I wonder how far I can travel with this thing. It’s already making noises. Shitty condition, if you ask me. Don’t think it’ll last long. Don’t have the tools to bother with it either. I’m not staying here long, so I’ll have to settle for it regardless. I need to find some place more permanent. Maybe a place with people - If they’re not crazy, that is. _

_Or I should stay alone. I should get a coconut and carve a smile on it. I haven’t decided yet. I don’t know much of anything anymore. I just randomly fall over, sometimes waking up to a different day.]_

An unexpected laugh escaped him. Little did SIM Jim know that he would retrieve a mannequin called Bud in a few months time. It was odd, seeing his SIM self, knowing of what was to come.

 

As the SIM continued, the moment of humor was not long lived. The piercing cries made him shiver. SIM Jim would have plugged in his headphones, but it was too risky of an act - Never so close to dusk.

 

He remembered thinking as to why those horrible people began their ritual so late. Then he remembered wishing that they all burn for their carelessness … that and the murders.

  

 

 

 

> _** COMMENCING SIM 9273SK91720 ** _
> 
> ** … DAY (58) SELECTED.  **
> 
> ** PART II.  **

 

So far, Jim heeded Gerald’s warning. To have this file in general would cause the inevitable viewing of the other perspective – a perspective he should have avoided with a hundred meter pole.

 

He would have shut down the screen or moved on to the next random day, except the sounds of lungs being emptied out with the ultimate vocal vomit, paralyzed Jim. That moment was the alarm, showing exactly how screwed he was.

 

To hear screams were one thing, but to hear the same ones poked at Jim’s conscious. As SIM Jim concluded his day, SIM Spock’s was just beginning. For it to begin so late meant that Spock was unconscious earlier.

 

But Spock never slept in.

 

Jim never wavered an eye, his morale yelling at him to move and ignore this ever took place. The image had yet to clear on his screen, which meant that he still had a chance to rectify this.

  
He could hide behind his couch.

 

The desperation to evacuate grew more and more.

 

Then the people started to appear. There were too many of them - fifty at the least.

 

Looking at the corner, Jim had to squint his eyes to see a blurry image. The details of the burnt individual … alien were undeniable. He probably could have specified the specie if it weren’t just brittle bones.

 

There was one last vacant stick, and that one belonged to Spock.

 

The Universe was playing a joke on Jim, because to expose him to this was too cruel for any sentient being.

 

Those add-ons were pushing Spock down an aisle composed of aggressive people on each side. It was abundantly clear that Spock wasn’t the first to be executed that day.

 

A part of Jim was angry with Spock for even getting captured in the first place. He cursed out loud, having the urge to throw his cup across the room.

 

The scene was out of some medieval holo-movie. It was a walk of shame.

 

All those add-ons had the audacity to put their hands on Spock’s clothes, on Spock’s skin – thinking they had the right to spit and call judgment.

 

Not once did Spock break away from his stoic expression, staring straight ahead at the stake.

 

His stake.

 

_[ **Add-On (91L8):** You disgrace!_

**_Add-On (95K8):_ ** _Judge!_

 **_Add-On (90K8):_ ** _Judgment to you all!_

 **_Add-On (98K8):_ ** _You’ve ruined our planet. You’ll die in it along with us._

 **_Add-On (92K8):_** _Freakin'_ _aliens!]_

****

Jim’s right leg took on a life of it’s own, trembling from the raw yearning to shove all those faces into the dirt – to rescue Spock – to remind Spock that he was better than all their tainted souls combined.

 

SIM Spock was dirty, indicating that they made him sleep on the floor. They had him for a time, and it made Jim wonder exactly how long.

 

How did the leader of Warehouse 15 come to be, when he should have been soaked with loathing? It was supposed to be impossible. A man like Spock, a man of understanding shouldn’t have manifested into the Universe when there were days like this in his pocket.

 

“Don’t give in. Don’t give in.” He repeated, seeing the terribly small changes in Spock’s face as he made his way through the path with his pale bare feet. To those add-ons, Spock wasn’t showing any signs of being affected by this, but in Jim’s perspective, it was like they were whipping him.

 

“Don’t do it, Spock.” He almost whimpered in the privacy of his own home.

 

Jim had no desire for Spock to give in, the complete silence being a familiar sight. Spock wouldn’t anathematize them nor would he beg.

 

“You think it’s all hopeless…” He concluded out loud. “You’re not giving in, and you’re not giving up.”

 

Spock was … he was accepting his end.

 

The fearing Spock he observed as they were being tortured by Salvatus after the rescue mission was nothing like the Spock currently on his screen.

 

His lower lip quivered at the sight, falling to his knees to crawl closer to the untouchable being, his beverage forgotten.

 

“Spock …”

 

 _[_ ** _Add-On (99L8):_ ** _On this night, and the ones to come, we continue to correct our wrongs. The main one being the wrongful act we have committed by opening our arms to those whom have betrayed us. From this night forward, we will only accept our own and never make the same mistake of those before us._

_He is a lie, the very symbol of Starfleet. His DNA is composed of those that proposed this ‘Federation’, punishing us, bringing unending fear to our present days._

_He is to be judged._

_Not solely for their failures, but because h _e bleeds green.__

_He is not like you and I.]_

 

Jim watched Spock not bother to open his mouth, not caring to spout a basic history lesson, informing these add-ons that Earth’s alliance with Vulcan improved it’s future, halted wars and introduced the technology for the humans to venture out on its own, obtaining more allies, further protecting the planet.

 

Spock must have thought it all illogical.

 

He was going to be burned no matter what he uttered.

 

“Get your hands off him.” He snapped with gritted teeth. This wasn’t the death Spock deserved. Blowing up into oblivion on the Enterprise was more appeasing than this.

 

Yes, he knew that somehow Spock got out of this, otherwise they wouldn’t have met … but it didn’t alter the fact that Spock sincerely thought this was it for him.

 

One hand tugged behind Spock’s back, then another, tying them together, and Spock was facing the crowd in front of him.

 

No friends, lovers or family.

 

No telepathy.

 

Just deranged fanatics.

 

Spock then rested his head back, locking his tired eyes to the stars that were becoming more prominent in the twilight firmament.

 

The chanting continued, and as it was so obviously alarming, Jim noticed something even more peculiar. They were calling Spock … a _mistake_.

 

The dread made camp in every cell, engulfing him whole. He wanted to crumble so that it could fully take over without resistance.

 

They knew.

 

 _[_ ** _Add-On (99L8):_ ** _You tell me that he’s human. You tell me he’s one of them._

_But I’m here to tell you exactly what he is.]_

 

Jim took to memorizing every crease and wrinkle on this add-on’s face, but it was futile.

All of it was futile. His emotions were irrelevant.

This was all synthetic. The only things that were real were the pointed ears that heard all the commentary – all the derogatory commentary Jim would deem illegal if he had the means.

 

 _[_ ** _Add-On (99L8):_ ** _He is a walking, talking, blasphemous mistake.]_

 

The flames danced on the moldy stick, nearing Spock’s vicinity and as the shouts of approval echoed through Jim’s walls, his bellows of rage accompanied it.

 

As useless as he was, the least he could do was curse them all for his Chief.

 


	52. POST SIM - PART NINETEEN

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick chapter.  
> Part One of Spock's POV.  
> Warning : Smut, smut and smut.  
> Song: Anachronism by Crywolf
> 
> ~X

** POST SIM - PART NINETEEN  
**

 

 

_"Get out."_

_It was harshly spat out, as most rude statements were typically delivered. It was evident that his presence was recognized before the door slid open. Now, he stood inside the room, not surprised by the order he was given._

_It was inevitable that his time of asking questions was to expire. ._

_Spock sighed, blaming it on the over-exertion of his many scouts and hours of working. He was not going to leave._

_"Fine." However, it was a blaring signal that this was the last time._

_Does he sleep?_

_"James tends to roll 'round a bit, but it's not like any of us don't. Four to five hours of sleep this time, so it's getting better. He said it's most likely 'cause of our food and the yoga he started."_

_This morning, Anastasia stated that it would be years before Jim could start the intermediate classes – her and Markus letting out guffaws at how many times Jim collapsed on the mat, unable to contain a single posture. Spock was just satisfied that Jim was not causing injury to himself._

_What particular sustenance does he favor?_

_"He's eating bigger meals, like the bowl of rice and fruits on the side - Grapes as usual. Tons of water. He doesn't sneak food in here, 'cause he sure doesn't let me."_

_His current relationship with the mannequin?_

_"He knows the doll ain't real. He doesn't have full-fledged conversations with it. At least when I'm here, that is." Karim said, pointing to Bud in the corner._

_Medication?_

_"And yes, he takes his medicine every night, but you knew this already from Dr. Crazy. Obviously that's all she'll tell you since there's patient-doctor confidentiality. Something I know you think is absurd in the middle of an invasion. Can't use your Chief points for that one. Sorry." He winked._

_The automatic rambling were answers to all of Spock's previous inquiries, to which he perpetually asked Karim whenever the opportunity presented itself._

_Karim continued answering the memorized queries, "He's taken extra shifts, and I told the other kids to not bombard him with questions. They call him 'Lightrunner 'now. Probably my fault, that one."_

_The fault definitely rested on Karim. Spock would ask Jim how he felt about that particular title, but they had yet to have a conversation._

_Spock would deny that it was deliberate on his part._

_Denial was all he had._

_Has he been informed of our most disgraceful moment yet?_

_"No, he still doesn't know about the trial."_

_Relief washed over him. Spock saw Karim frown, showing his disappointment because in his opinion, Jim had to know if he wanted to stay. It was for the better._

_To Spock, there was nothing to gain if he were to mention it. It would only make Jim uncomfortable, and he seemed like the type of individual that forgot what 'comfortable' meant._

_Spock would not ruin it._

_"The most he complains about is Terrence, which doesn't make a lick of sense." Karim uttered out each word with his fingers intertwined behind his head, resting it on the wall of his side of the room. "This concludes my report, Commander. Is there anything else you'd like to hear from your awesome spy?"_

_Yes, there was._

_Was Jim happy?_

_Spock always endeavored to make the base as comfortable as possible. He desired for Jim to not feel like an inmate, as most people did in the early months._

_Also, what exactly transpired between Terrence and Jim? Spock had no idea, considering Terrence had exceptional manners, especially towards the children._

_He would solve this immediately._

_Spock also wished to learn of the specifics when it came to Jim's past. Katherine commented that Jim lived in Iowa, and that he ventured here to start anew._

_Was Jim interested in the Academy?_

_As these questions rose in his mind. Spock had to halt them again, deeply concerned as to why he cared this much._

_Jim's life prior to this should not matter, because it was irrelevant, just as everyone else's here. They were all here with one objective – to move on._

_"James isn't a threat. Markus and Ana keep a close eye on him. Again, you knew that." Karim leaned forward, placing his palms on his knees, intently staring at Spock's sand covered coat. "Chief – "_

_Spock turned away. "That will be all."_

_"But – "_

_"I will speak with him." It was truth. It would happen … eventually._

_"Will you? 'Cause he's been asking for you. It isn't like you to just ignore people. He seriously thinks you're a ghost." Karim added, unimpressed. "Do you not like him or something?"_

_"Inaccurate deduction, Karim. It is far more complex than anything you could conclude." How was he supposed to expect a human teenager to accurately solve something he himself was lost to?_

_There were times, sometimes even days in which he could forget his own limitations, his handicap. Except, whenever this new occupant came into view, it was a blaring reminder that something was missing, removed and that he was the key._

_He decided that he would not use the human._

_Spock was no longer the Vulcan he was, and this was how he would continue to live, until he revived this dormant part himself, or until he burned._

_Whichever came first, he was not to touch this man, only observe._

_But that became short lived, for a single inviting smile ignited a tug in his thoracic cavity. He was not to touch, and he soon learned that he was not to look either._

_To cast aside these rules would make him vulnerable to making decisions he would regret._

_Jim's aura was one that attracted victims of his choosing, like flies to a light source. It was a spell that wrapped Spock when Jim patted on the bed of his apartment, pulling Spock closer the first night they met._

_The fluent exchanges of light insults, Jim's laughs that reverberated through Spock's own body, and then the unforeseen compliment that accompanied it – all of it articulated with such precision – Spock was clueless to the bindings of Jim's concealed spell._

_His preventatives in the base were necessary, for he knew that he would actually grow an appreciation that would be equivalent to the one he had for his older occupants and council._

_"Inaccurate it is then. What do I know, anyways?" Karim shrugged, standing up from his bed. He trudged a few steps, nudging his head up, squinting his eyes at Spock. "He's not an idiot, you know? He's actually really smart and a benefit to this base. He's already figured out that you purposefully avoid him…"_

_Spock incorrectly calculated, assuming that he had more time before Jim noticed. He cringed at the thought._

_"… holy shit.." Karim covered his mouth, stricken with disbelief. "Tell me it ain't so, Chief."_

**.**

**.**

**.**

It was a crime for this memory, or any SIM related memory, to resurface in his dreams. It was a crime to be experiencing dreams, considering that they ceased to occur in his adolescent years. There was a panic for a fraction of a moment.

Sitting up on his disarranged bed, Spock's eyes adjusted to the darkness. His room became clearer, reminding him that he was home and not in some closet for protection.

A crime it was, since SIM memories already swarmed his mind when he was conscious. He could not afford the same during his slumber.

He should have deleted the file.

Viewing and rethinking of SIM events now held a different perspective. Spock's obliviousness when he first met SIM Jim was shameful. Spock's obliviousness to numerous aspects, such as the programming of his 'friends' was equally shameful.

And just as Jim said, the add-ons uncovered their affections. The system adapted to their behavior.

Was the string that encircled Spock visible to those viewing the SIM? Was it visible to those here?

Instead of attempting to answer his pushing queries, he had no choice but to try sleeping again. The night was still young, and sleep was mandatory for those that finished their SIM, let alone endured the SIM maximum.

For his mind to reach full clarity, his fatigue had to be dealt with. So Spock laid his head on the pillow and closed his eyes.

**.**

**.**

**.**

_"I miss our tree."_

_Both Spock and Jim were sitting on the floor across from each other, their legs resting by the other in the last aisle of the library in the second lowest level. Jim's sudden admission removed all of Spock's attention from his page._

_The lockdown, because of the lights' absence, made a few people agitated within these walls. Prior to retreating to this spot, they were made aware that Clayton split up an altercation between Hugh and Byron. Apparently, they were both infatuated with Vanessa and their quarrel reached its peak, hence the yells and insults broadcasted for the whole base to hear._

_This was only one of many._

_There were times when Spock wondered how his occupants managed their priorities, especially when faced with moments like these._

_Now he could not, for it would have made him a hypocrite. Hugh and Byron were not at fault for their affections. Clayton's momentary distractions when in the presence of Savitra were not his fault either._

_Love was not something one could easily control._

_He knew this now._

_"Our tree?"_

_"Our tree." Jim blatantly confirmed, leaving no room for argument. "We eat breakfast there every morning… or at least we used to. Instead, we're cooped up in here." He placed his book on his lap and let out an unnecessarily loud exhale. "We still do our nightly scouts, but – " Jim's voice then became a weak whisper, leaving the rest of the sentence for interpretation._

_Except, it was not a mystery – not to Spock._

_"You miss the sun." Spock finished for him, thinking that they would eventually have to begin scouting the grounds during the daylight._

_Jim tilted his head ever so slightly, his gratefulness plastered on his face from quick Spock's deduction. "And you don't?"_

_He did not have to. "No, Jim. I rarely think of it anymore." Nor did he care that he would soon see it again._

_"Anymore?" Jim said, his interest increasing._

_If Spock could retract his answer, then he would have. His reasoning was most illogical, and yet rang true to him. Now he had to explain._

_Spock nodded._

_"And what's changed?" Jim asked, tapping his left temple with his index finger, deep in thought. "I mean, when people think of the sun they think safety. That's what I think, at least."_

_"Safety, indeed. It also provides warmth - A symbol, temporarily erasing all the damage this planet is enduring. It's light." Spock informed, taking in the man he has come to love. "It is authentic light - A reminder that we survived another day. That we are alive."_

_"So are you saying that you don't think of it like that anymore? Did you suddenly remember that our sentiments towards the star are extremely illogical?" Jim's smile widened, shaking his head. "Can't blame you, honestly."_

_"You have inquired as to what has changed." Spock breathed in, thinking that this thought process has never occurred prior to the invasion. Then again, he was not the same person. "What has changed is that you have been introduced in my life. You are that light for me." He confessed, "So no, I rarely think of the sun anymore, and it is of little concern that the privilege of seeing it has been drastically reduced."_

_Perhaps these walls were affecting him as well. He was iterating words of a deranged man. "I replaced one illogical sentiment for another."_

_Jim was staring at him as if he was one, eyes wide and posture rigid. "… I'm your sun?"_

_Spock was unaware of what to expect as a response, but the sheer look of horror was not one he considered possible. He questioned if he had erred._

_Should he have refrained from expressing his perspective on the matter?_

_The shuffling of some occupants a few aisles away was all that could be heard as they stared at the other, not blinking an eye. The flushed skin trickled up Jim's neck, soon taking residence on his cheeks._

_"Fuck."_

_The expletive was not one spoken with menace, such as the ones he heard from Byron and Hugh earlier. This was one delivered with a hoarse breath, a word used when faced with something beyond comprehension._

_When spoken in this way, it would usually be done with Jim's skin on Spock's tongue in the midst of their desperate ravishing of the other._

_How was he supposed to respond when it was uttered in this mundane setting?_

_Jim wiped his face, gulping and composing himself as fast as he could. "I'm not one to be affected by compliments, but you are the exception Spock."_

_To hear this from Jim, it pleased Spock immensely._

_"You must have had everyone swooning over you back home." Jim snickered, tossing his book in a light jesting gesture._

_Spock instantly caught it, shook not by the sudden action, but by Jim's incorrect assumption. Jim truly had no idea, and he never would._

**.**

**.**

**.**

_Jim grabbed Spock after his shift, and directed them to their quarters without a word. Spock assumed that Jim had important matters to discuss, and preferably in private, so he followed._

_Instead, Jim wished to resume their game._

_"Your turn," Was the first thing Jim said. He crossed his arms, raw determination emanating through his posture._

_"I should return," He said, taking a step back. "Savitra is expecting me – "_

_"I already spoke to her." Jim announced, showing that he would not let Spock exit their room any time soon. "The Chief doesn't exist for the rest of the day. There's only Spock and James. So, it's your turn."_

_Spock thought that this would be the opportune time to mention that he intended to cease this game. Last night, the topics of conversation were childhood experiences– an indicating sign that there would be occasions he would have to speak of things he was uncomfortable with._

_Jim began the session by mentioning how him and his brother, Samuel, committed ruthless pranks on their mother's love interests whenever they confidently concluded that the chosen man of the time was unfitting for her, lacking all the promising characteristics they thought she deserved. Some were executed with humor, whereas some were executed after months of believing Ms. Davis' chosen mate was adequate, disappointing them in the end._

_It was then that Jim inquired as to Spock's social life as a child and adolescent._

_It forced Spock to be vague, and he never wanted to be put into that position again. He could confess his likes, dislikes, his dreams and even his fears. He could bare his mind for Jim, but there was an inkling of a thought that if Jim was aware that his own people saw him as lacking, that Jim eventually would too._

_It was dangerous territory._

_Perhaps this confrontation was because Jim noticed. Spock acknowledged long ago that Jim was observing to a greater degree. Spock even sometimes considered that Jim had training._

_"I told you already." Jim said, bringing his hands to Spock's collar, traveling up to Spock's jaw. "I want to know everything."_

_The colors of their bridge swam together, glowing more with their rapid movements. There were times when Spock wished this affected Jim as much as it did him. The fingers climbing up his neck began to burn, the contact transmitting Jim's deep urge to just fuse together._

_He had to resist the idea._

_"But I won't force you." Jim  then patted Spock's chest twice, taking a step back._

_Spock would have whined, but thankfully he had enough sense. Instead, he took this as his cue to leave, and as he turned around, Jim tsked behind him._

_"I said the Chief doesn't exist until tomorrow, remember?"_

_Spock turned back around, cocking his head up to appear unaffected by Jim's taunting purse of his lips._

_"Bed."_

_Another gulp, "Jim – "_

_"Is Spock unwilling?"_

_Jim was now giving him a chance to leave, so that he could begin his shift with Savitra. Spock would have already been on the bed, but it was clear that their game was to continue, and for that reason, Spock briefly hesitated._

_It was Jim's hungry gaze, roaming over his person that made Spock decide to ignore his irrational irresolution. Jim expressively said that he would not push._

_So, Spock took a step forward, the tension clearly dissipating from Jim's body in relief. Once he sat on the middle of the bed, his back resting on the headboard, he flipped his palms upright, indicating that he was ready for the next instruction._

_"Boots."_

_And so Spock removed them. He then watched carefully, filling his lungs slowly as Jim settled on his lap. They have been in this position before, and it was a most pleasurable experience._

_"You see – " Jim began, his fingers dancing on Spock's chest. "James is at a disadvantage."_

_"And to what disadvantage does he speak of?" He managed to say, trying to pay attention to Jim's face and not those teasing fingers._

_"All Spock has to do is touch him, and he has front seat on which parts are the most sensitive and bring the most pleasure. James can do the same, but not to the same extent obviously. He's human after all. He only knows what Spock tells him, or by reactions, which Spock has exceptional control of."_

_Jim's weight on his lap and the seductive roll of those hips made Spock bite back a groan._

_"James wishes to fix this by going through a very thorough exploration." Jim explained, bringing his face closer to Spock's right ear._

_Their chests moved together, partners dancing together in the heat that was sinking lower and lower._

_"Is Spock amenable to that?"_

_The hotness of each word caressed his darkening skin. His hips bucked up in response, Jim moaning from the enticing friction._

_Spock's hands took solace on the sides of Jim's body, merging their bodies together again._

_It was a success soon forgotten, because Jim moved Spock's hands away. Jim faced Spock, their noses brushing. Somehow Jim's expression showed that Spock's touching was uninvited, which contradicted the thoughts of Jim's mind that said otherwise – begged for otherwise._

_"No touching."_

_Spock's brows creased together, staring at Jim as if he could find an underlying meaning._

_There was none._

_It was a simple order._

_His hands were to remain still._

_Jim gently moved a few strands from Spock's face, "Spock didn't answer the quest – "_

_"Yes." Spock whispered, his 's' sounding longer than intended. He wondered why he had to answer such a query when his willingness was unquestionable._

_"If there is anything Spock is uncomfortable with, he'll say it – right?"_

_Spock nodded, "Yes."_

_He has learned to say this in intimate settings, instead of 'affirmative'. Jim has never pointed this out. It was Steven. He made a comment derived from humorous curiosity, inquiring if Spock said words similar to 'affirmative' in bed._

_Spock never answered, dismissing the ex-Starfleet officer immediately with a slightly raised voice– however, the thought resided in his conscious long after the childish laughs in the hall diminished._

_So he said 'Yes'._

_Yes, he would do whatever Jim wished._

_"Here's some things James already knows." Jim pulled the bottom of Spock's shirt and lifted it up, Spock raising his hands in aid. When the fabric was removed and tossed aside, Jim brushed his lips on the bottom of Spock's jaws, placing light kisses until he reached the bottom of Spock's earlobe._

_Jim definitely knew that Spock favored those succulent lips on his neck, sparking his nerves. Jim was indeed correct in this._

_"He can feel Spock getting hotter by this. But how hot can he get by James' mouth alone?"_

_Whenever satiating their craving for the other, Jim showed efforts by bringing Spock to completion with his tongue, but all attempts could not reach fruition because Spock eventually intervened, directing his attention to Jim, and thus making Jim unable to continue._

_Penetration was impossible if he let Jim continue._

_Except this time, Spock was unable to retaliate._

_"The ears were an obvious one for him to find out."_

_Each word was delivered in a seductive tone, and Spock found himself clenching the sheets to refrain from grabbing Jim's body and flipping them over._

_"But where exactly?" Jim said, his wet tongue providing one lick to the top of Spock's ear. He then did so again, but to the side – and Spock shut his eyes with a low exhale._

_Jim nibbled on it, "There."_

_The success of Jim's explicit venture was evident by his laugh. As Spock was in the process of concocting a response, all ten fingers started to glide down his torso._

_Jim was sensual in his delivery. Except, as those fingers paused, they began to trickle up, barely brushing his skin – a torturous thing indeed._

_"Spock likes this, but James wonders if Spock likes this too." It was then that those fingers moved on his erect nipples, Jim using his thumb to graze by them._

_It was nothing spectacular, unlike all ten fingers marking his torso as Jim's territory._

_"Not much, then." Jim hummed, his slight disappointment apparent in Spock's conscious. "Not even if James does this?"_

_Spock watched intently as Jim bent down to place one long lick across his areola. Just as before, there was not much sensation – something he has come to know in his adolescent years._

_Jim did the same to the other, resulting in minimum sensation._

_"No nipple play for you then." He said, now resting his forehead on Spock's. "Shame."_

_It seemed that Jim would have kissed him, but he never did – just letting them breathe in the other._

_Jim's weight was never an issue, always light in his perspective – except the limitation of not being allowed to bring their bodies tighter together was becoming unbearable. Jim was toying with him, and he knew it._

_"What does Spock want?"_

_He said it in the most wanton of ways, Spock's hips automatically moving again. He fully expected Jim to order him to cease, so it was surprising when Jim moved with him instead._

_His nipples might not have been erogenous zones, but he was certain of a few - His lips being one._

_"Kiss me." He suggested, his mind flooded by Jim's scent - he momentarily forgot their game._

_He was thankful when Jim had mercy and attended to his need, placing their lips together with a deep inhale. Jim took hold of Spock's face as their lips parted to deepen this accolade._

_Their shared moans, and immersion of their forming connection, caused the rules to shatter. Spock held onto Jim's waist under the troublesome fabric, climbing higher and higher._

_Suddenly, Jim lightly bit Spock's bottom lip, shoving him back in place right after. The shirt was still there, and Spock was angered by it._

_"Shit." Jim cursed, his lips swollen from the harsh intensity of their kiss. "He's not finished." He said, inserting his thumb in the hem of Spock's pants._

_Jim removed himself from Spock's lap, resting on the side so that he could get rid of the pants. Spock should have then told Jim that they could cease their actions._

_It did not require a genius to grasp Jim's intentions. This … this was never done between them. All he knew of this experience was what he felt through Jim when he performed such an act himself._

_Jim withered when Spock did this, often forgetting himself in the process. It was for that reason that he was tentative of reciprocation._

_But Spock did not say a word. Ultimately, he curiosity won._

_With his pants now removed, his erection twitched on his lower abdomen at the image of what could ensue. He was rendered speechless, only able to watch Jim move between his legs._

_Jim rested on his knees, both his hands guiding Spock's knees further apart - leaning to one of them and placing one quick peck._

_He could not look away, stuck on the view of his lover moving towards the other knee, closing his eyes and kissing Spock's skin._

_Assuming that Jim would stop, he bit his cheeks in surprise, feeling Jim's tongue move deeper down his thigh._

_"Ji – " He attempted to say, failing miserably when Jim began to graze the skin with teeth, threatening to bite._

_Spock's chest rose and fell, his head falling back on the headboard. He was dazed, the sight of Jim in this position burned in his psyche. The distraction and growing want became strong enough for Jim to detect, and he knew it was noticed by Jim's strangled noise right above Spock's inner thigh._

_"Spock never asks." Jim murmured, "God, he never just pulls James' hair, shoving him lower."_

_Jim was raking Spock's legs with his groomed nails, making Spock certain that this would be his undoing._

_The smoldering heat became a fiery flame. He was well familiar with this feeling. It would always be Jim's and his alike, but Spock was not doing anything this time… He was forced to sit here and bear through this without taking what he internally claimed as his numerous times._

_"James likes to give and receive. He thought Spock knew this." Jim's voice was intoxicating. "Clearly, Spock gets turned on by him. I mean, Spock can't receive pleasure vicariously forever."_

_The pressure in Spock's chest continued to build, his eyes opening. Jim was not looking at him, but at Spock's right hand. It was in a fist, and Jim took to carefully separating those fingers with his own._

_It was his current state of arousal that left them sensitive to the simplest of touches._

_Jim held Spock's hand like he discovered the most rare of jewels and asked, "What does Spock want?"_

_Spock sensed Jim's ache to fulfill his prurient desires. It was an odd sensation, recognizing that Jim would comply with great satisfaction. Was Jim aware of how irresistible he could be?_

_The things Spock_ _**coveted** _ _were obscene._

_And somehow, it was exactly what they both wanted._

_"Lick." He demanded, temporarily shutting down all reason that would prevent this._

_The carnal bliss of Jim's tongue sliding from the bottom of his palm to the top of his middle finger startled him. Spock's moan was out before he noticed, the heat of Jim's mouth taking in two fingers._

_He felt dazed and heavy, the fervent pleasure coursing though his entire body – his eyes never wavering away from the erotic sight. He watched Jim suck on his fingers as if it were a delicacy, his tongue swirling around the digits ever so slowly._

_The sounds escaping Spock's throat were a mix of foreign whimpers and Vulcan. All to which Jim received happily, laughing against the fingers._

_The vibration caused him to jerk back by reflex._

_Jim held on tighter and proceeded to lick down his palm, then to nibbling the side until he reached the top of Spock's pinkie._

_One of Jim's hand retreated from Spock's tortured hand, palming Spock's unattended hardness. Spock could not discern at to why Jim's hands on him were always more pleasurable than his own. Was it the unpredictability of it? Was it the link that ignited through from their touches?_

_Perhaps it was both._

_Some things were never meant to be experienced for sentient beings, for they would never be productive members of society, only living for the sole pleasure of being with another._

_When Jim completely let go of Spock's hand, Spock let it fall right down. Spock wondered why he was not spent yet._

_"All Spock has to tell James is 'stop'." Jim cooed, inching his head lower to lay on his stomach in order to be comfortably near Spock's aching organ._

_"Do not dare." He immediately replied, realizing that his previous hesitation was foolery._

_This was Jim._

_And Jim's breath tickled near the darkened and tissue, sending a shudder. Spock was positive that Jim could hear his heart now, or at least feel it pulsating._

_One hot lick to his glans, he watched Jim repeat it again and again. The spark of this forced Jim to take pause, for it shook through him too._

_Jim briefly wondered if he would climax from this, and Spock decided to test this by making sure every movement transmitted through their forming link. He was too distracted to prevent it anyhow._

_Spock found his fingers automatically buried in Jim's hair, rasping as Jim took attention to his frenulum, Jim's facial hair tickling his sensitive skin in the process. If all sense abandoned him, he would have placed his fingers near Jim's temples and initiated more than a mind meld._

_So close._

_So tempting._

_But a fraction of sense still resided in him._

_It was never meant to be. Not in this world, and not if he desired for Jim to be untarnished should things end up cruelly for Spock._

_The negative thoughts did not survive for long, for Jim grabbed onto Spock's thighs, moving his lips right above the head of his penis._

_Then Jim swirled his tongue around it, and Spock held onto the dirty blond strands. He was stunned that he felt the urge to use his position, pulling Jim further down. His body and mind must have been fully inebriated to even consider the thought._

_Nonetheless, Jim continued further down, and Spock observed with parted lips, automatically sinking lower into the bed - His right angle seating posture no more._

_The heat of Jim's mouth wrapped him, making him groan in ways he thought primal._

_The added sensation of Jim's hands massaging Spock as he moved his head lower was enough for Spock to forget the hold he had on Jim, grasping to the strands as if they were strings holding his life, fearing to let go._

_He could feel Jim all over, both their moans matching the other. Jim repeated the movements, using his nails to scrape Spock's thighs again, leaving trails of darkened marks on his skin._

_Spock knew he had to place his hands elsewhere soon. They were too close to the desired location, and he was too vulnerable to commit things all forbidden. At the very least, he had to move his hands or he would take control of their position._

_With much internal persuading on his part, he lifted his hands up, breathing partially broken from Jim's licentious skills on his most private region._

_It was to Spock's shock that Jim forbade the action, catching one of Spock's wrists and placing it back on his head._

_"He cannot," Spock managed to say, feeling every wave from Jim's pleasure. This was permission. He was sure of it. And yet he wanted more clarification. "Does James wishes for him to – "_

_Jim came up for air, the breeze on Spock's wet skin causing another shiver. "He wants Spock to fuck his mouth," Jim husked, lazily kissing Spock's hip with a grin. "And he knows Spock wants it."_

_If Spock believed in a higher entity, a sole creator, he might have pleaded for forgiveness. What he was going to do would be the crudest and delicious of things._

_His own beliefs were not enough to eliminate this fervid yearning for redemption._

**.**

**.**

**.**

Spock's eyes flickered open.

The warm wetness between his legs greeted him as he returned to the real world, and he instantly grabbed his pillow from behind his head. He lifted it up and shoved it onto his face, illogically depriving himself of oxygen. Thankfully, McCoy took his leave early tonight, making this the prime moment to shout into the fabric as loud as he could.

His mind cried for more during meditation, and now, his body cried for the same. If this was nothing like a ripped bond, he wondered how those that experienced such a crippling affliction survived, or obtained the will to live.

Torment, torment, and more torment.


	53. POST SIM - PART NINETEEN (2)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm dedicating this chapter to Abby.  
> Wishing you the best of health.
> 
> I promised an update as soon as the internet outage got fixed.  
> Here it is!
> 
> Warning: Vulcan. Remember that? I didn't. *cries*  
> Song: Fall Over by Banks
> 
> ~X

** POST SIM - PART NINETEEN (2)  
**

> _**Mr. Spock!** _
> 
> _**…Okay – that sounded incredibly formal.** _
> 
> _**I prefer it to Professor Spock. I'll say Commander then.** _
> 
> _**Commander?** _
> 
> _**Bad idea – I'll stick to Spock. These videos are far from professional anyways.** _
> 
> _**Well, Spock – this is day seven of your SIM, and I was hoping it would be complete by now. You promised to see me off. Obviously circumstances intervened.** _
> 
> _**In all seriousness – It’s going to be five years before we're back here again.** _
> 
> _**If we come back …** _
> 
> _**I'd ask you again if you could accompany me, except that's pretty much impossible now. You already gave me your answer anyways.** _
> 
> _**My first stop is Agra!** _

__

Dread.

Dread greeted Spock like a long lost companion, rapturously engulfing him as McCoy spoke through the video comm, informing Spock that their situation could plummet into complete catastrophe.

Hyperbole not intended.

_“The genuine surprise on your face is more unsettling than what I’ve just said, Spock.”_

Nothing was more unsettling than what McCoy said.

 _“We should have expected this. We’re talkin’ ‘bout Jim here.”_ McCoy tsked, shutting his eyes and drawing a long sigh.

The slumber that was Spock’s dismay, had to have had the worst timing. What followed the next morning made him want to slump into his chair, releasing the tension of all his muscles. Apparently, McCoy had worthy suspicion that Jim was concocting something – all of it secretive and certainly dangerous.

Jim said he would bring ruin.

On every occasion, Spock would have believed it - Even the times when he should have believed otherwise, in situations that included life and death, he still believed – because despite Jim’s elaborate and sometimes irrational behavior, he still evaluated the possible outcomes and acknowledged the absolute impossible.

There was no positive outcome from this – only Jim’s dismissal, rendering all Spock and McCoy’s efforts unavailing.

Spock watched McCoy rub his eyes and clear his throat.

 _“Maybe … maybe I’m in over my head here. Jim is capable of a lot of things, and yes, a lot of them has turned in his favor – but this is too far fetched, even for him.”_ McCoy expressed his doubt, a bitter laugh escaping him. _“He’s just one man. And I don’t have much faith when it comes to depending on people we’ve never even spoken to. I know he wants to, but he shouldn’t either.”_

Regardless, they had to both keep their ears open.

Considering Jim’s actions in the SIM and his lack of faith in humanity, it would be odd to expect Jim’s childish hope.

But … Jim admitted that he wanted so desperately to revive this hope in his own people and in his planet. The moment Spock introduced that humanity still existed, it was Jim that devoured it whole.

Spock could not discern Jim’s current state. If he were still able to, then he would know better. He would not be sitting here and failing to guess the future actions of a man he should have known everything about.

He was on stand-by.

It stung.

_**.** _

_**.** _

_**.** _

Today was the day Spock was going to collect his items from his office, with the intention that he would not return to the Academy for the rest of the semester.

As expected, the Academy was filled with students studying for their final exams. Perhaps he should have returned another day, but Spock could not remain in the silence of his home with only the low hums of his walls keeping him company, increasing his emotional instability.

He had to develop a routine and begin anew. Today was the day that Spock would become a productive member of society as he has always been and always will be.

"We're cadets! We're not just students, ready to disperse elsewhere. We're bound together after we leave this Academy."

Spock turned to his right and saw a clustered group that mainly consisted of First Class cadets. There was one male cadet of a below average height standing on top of a bench, looking down at the gathered people.

"We didn't just sign on for four years of academic agony! We didn't just subject ourselves to four separate psychological exams, knowing very well we’re supposed to get another prior to our first mission. We didn't just prance around so that we could get our degrees and disappear. We gave Starfleet our life. Starfleet is all we know. Starfleet is all we'll have!"

Spock analyzed the group and carefully watched how they nodded in agreement and expressed their opinions in affirming outbursts. He heard that things were changing. In the back of his mind, he knew this.

Witnessing it with his own eyes was astonishing.

"Isn't it enough that we commit to them and offer our very best, because if we didn't – we would be kicked out! Starfleet doesn't tolerate average. The fact that we're here speaks to how worthy we are! And now that we're so close to crossing the finish line, they want to throw this ancient, disgraceful and insulting thing at us, not before, but after it. They want to make us feel like we accomplished something in life, before they steal it away."

This was his top student, Cadet Brighton. Brighton never spoke unless he presented the mandatory oral presentations during evaluations.

Brighton had his shoulders slumped down on a regular basis, Spock internally thinking that it was a weak posture.

Today, he corrected that weak posture, his eyes showing a tremendous amount of sadness mixed with anger. It was the sight of a man preparing for war. What was this cadet dreading in his SIM?

"Isn't it enough that we could die up there...?"

> _**I always assumed this place was overrated. I mean, I know you've seen better. I've seen better – But the beauty of this is enchanting. It's Earth's. The Taj Mahal belongs to Earth.** _
> 
> _**We made this before we traveled in light speed. When the very idea of intelligent life existing outside our atmosphere was a fictitious tale or a sign of delirium.** _
> 
> _**Isn't this fascinating?** _
> 
> _**I’m more inspired for my trip to Mexico and Egypt now. Wow.** _
> 
> _**Wish you were here.** _

"I signed up to better myself and explore other worlds. I signed on to protect our allies in the stars and our families in this planet we call Earth. As someone on the command track, I want to lead a ship. I see that in my future. But I'll tell you what I didn't sign up for. I didn't sign up for those not SIM taking Admirals to see my secrets. Secrets that have absolutely nothing to do with them."

Spock knew that he should have been walking ahead. He had a goal and destination in mind. Standing here was just directing some attention towards him. Especially since many deduced his recent absence to be a SIM appointment.

Inquiries would be inevitable.

It was then that Brighton spotted him. He opened his mouth, not looking away from Spock.

For someone that could have entered and left a room without a single being noticing, this level of intimidation should have been highly unlikely.

"I didn't sign up for them to watch me struggle through my insecurities. I didn't sign up to be sucked into times of my life that I could have done without - Times in my life that I have already overcome. I know some people think that when one faces their fears, they come out of the other side _better_ … but the truth is that some don't make it to the other side - not the second time. Some aren't equipped for it. Apparently that now means we're not equipped for Starfleet. And for them to rip our future away because of that, well … that's not the Starfleet I signed up for. Who wants a compromised crew, let alone a compromised Captain? Not like they'll notice because apparently, well all be more compatible!"

The students were recording Brighton while yelling out, urging for more. Others were joining in to listen closely as well. Spock also noticed a few professors looking from the far back, arms crossed and expressionless.

Brighton was always a cadet Spock doubted would succeed in command. Granted, his grades exceeded the requirements, however he never spoke. A leader had to speak to his people.

Spock questioned when he would cease to be incorrect on almost every matter. His judgment of character was flawed beyond repair.

"I can't get rid of THE SIMULATION. We can't. But I won't sit here and make them think that what they're doing is okay. Everyone up there is depending on our silence, but I say that we let them know of everything. Let them know how they have dissected our brains, so that they can never get a good night sleep. Since they haven't taken it, and I doubt that they will, let them suffer the same consequences. Let them know of every disturbing detail so that they survive on hyposhots for thirty years after two marriages and kids. We won't keep silent like before. This is a new age. This is a different generation, and we refuse to be ashamed."

Brighton was making sure his opinions would be etched into the audience's memories. It was unfortunate that this would have no effect on the program's resurrection, nonetheless it would definitely make the next class that would be subjected to it more prepared.

Spock commended him for it.

"We will no longer fear how our superior commanding officers will perceive us either. You need time to cope? Take it. You need more rest? Let them know. Are you angry or sad because of the SIM? Don't hide it.

"We're not just officers. We're living beings with feelings. The opinions of our superiors are important, but not enough to make us reevaluate who we are and our worth. Here's another thing we'll do. Since we are the future of Starfleet, and since they're so determined to sabotage our crew dynamics, it's up to us to fix it. It's up to us to make each other remember that we aren't weak. That we're all comrades with one goal in mind." Brighton briefly paused when the others shouted. Hands were up, showing the evident agreement to the preach. "We will boldly go where no man has gone before, and no idiotic SIM test will deter us from our primary objective."

**.**

**.**

**.**

> _**It's day thirteen of your SIM. Landed in Moscow five hours ago. I literally dropped my stuff and ran right back out.** _
> 
> _**Pavel's messaging me all the time and advising me of the best spots to check out. I should have brought him since we decided to abstain from SIM duties.** _
> 
> _**Excuse the hair, Spock. The wind hasn't been kind to me.** _
> 
> _**Again – Wish you were here.** _

Getting to his office was a complicated task. He avoided all the SIM related queries and specifically stated that he would not comment on them since each test was a unique experience, hence making his advice redundant.

It dived into the worst when another cadet asked how the SIM program was when an officer was inserted into it with another mind – Spock stated that he would not comment on that either because that would include his Captain's experience, and none of them would endure his experience anyways.

He never corrected himself when he called Jim his Captain. It was something that was a part of his core, that to say anything else was incredibly foreign.

He also was aware that the correction would arise another set of questions.

Too many prying minds were curious as to Spock's SIM, especially since more news traveled of the altered aspect of Captains and First Officers taking the test simultaneously. If Spock and Jim received their appointment tomorrow, they would have surely known that they were taking it simultaneously beforehand.

It was a grateful thing to see that no one questioned his grade.

Brighton was correct. This generation was not keeping silent and exchanging as much information as they could. The ones whom served in Starfleet for years, decades even, had another idea in mind. Silence was how it was, and that was how it would remain.

"You may enter." Spock said to the unknown presence behind his office door. He felt it the moment he sat down.

The door slid open, revealing a Vulcan officer - V'ek Grayensha to be exact.

Spock immediately stiffened in his seat. "Lieutenant Grayensha."

Grayensha took a step into his office with her hands clasped behind her back - A classic erect posture.

She had her hair cut in a short fashion, similar to that of T'Pol in her early Starfleet years when she was aboard the Enterprise. Normally, Vulcan women kept their hair longer. When Spock first sighted her on Academy grounds, he assumed she was one of the male cadets ... that was until she turned around.

"You appear displeased. Perhaps an appointment would have been more amenable." She said, her dissatisfaction from the possibility that she'd be shown out.

"Appointments are mandatory for my students, and you are no longer one, Lieutenant."

She raised a brow. "Correct. I am not."

"And what may be the purpose for your presence here today?"

"To speak to you." She simply answered. "There are some private matters I wish to discuss."

Spock did not have an idea as to how his father discerned her fondness for him. There was nothing about her that made Spock assume the same. Then again, his judgment of character was severely flawed.

"And how were you made aware of my arrival?" It should not have been possible, for he just arrived. This was also a spontaneous visit.

She blinked, "I have come to your office twice a day for twenty - five days while I provided aid to Professor Jong – "

The urgency was easily detected. "Aid for what?"

"With the influx of Vulcan cadets post graduation, Professor Jung has to endure endless debates in his classes."

"Professor Jung favors it when his students discuss his lessons among themselves. He has often expressed his desire for them to reach a compromise through their debates. He endeavors to create the prime environment to recruit members for his debate team."

"I concur, however he does not favor it in this magnitude. His lessons would often be forgotten after a controversial topic has been introduced. One student would express an opinion, which would then be followed by a contradictory statement, and the pattern would repeat endlessly. He favors debates, but he does not favor those that tend to be ceaseless."

"In essence, they are behaving like Tellarites." He said to himself before he could catch it. Grayensha's eyes widened, her hands unclasping as she stared at him.  Spock cleared his throat, blaming his words on the lack of sleep. "I presume Professor Jung has made you his personal mediator then."

"Affirmative. I also use my time here to make certain the current cadets adapt to living in this human environment. It is an efficient endeavor until I debark with the USS Antigone."

Spock ignored the part that wished he had Vulcan classmates, and a leader to direct his inquiries to such as V'ek.

"I see…"

> _**Sooo… you're not out of your SIM yet. I won't deny that I'm growing concerned.** _
> 
> _**It's been seventeen days, Spock.** _
> 
> _**Dubai's weather could be better. I'm a few shades darker at the moment. Really liking this glow.** _
> 
> _**… I don't know why I said that. You see it.** _
> 
> _**Aren't I positively glistening? I hope you’re nodding with me, Spock. You should be.** _
> 
> _**Jokes aside, you said you always wanted to see the rest of Earth. I'll stay here longer so that when you wake up, we'll still have places to go. I won't finish the list so quickly. That's if you'll be interested.** _
> 
> _**Your test can’t extend any longer. It’s absurd that you and Kirk were given an appointment when you’ve more than proven yourselves. Between you and I, our entire crew shouldn’t have either.** _
> 
> _**Then again, that woman … I believe her name’s Eckford or something - she may need a grade. Don't tell Lemli I said this. There’s something peculiar about her. I know you know it.** _
> 
> _**Miss you.** _

"It has come to my knowledge that you and Ensign S'kuul were notified of the SIMs … complications by my father." Spock said, resisting the urge to tap on his desk.

She nodded. "We have been forewarned. Correct."

"And yet, you have received a grade."

"A PASS." She replied.

"I ask this without insult, however – "

Grayensha then interjected, which caused Spock to lean back in his seat and quirk a brow at her. "To insult another being would be an act of – "

"I am aware of what is considered illogical, Lieutenant." He interrupted. "I only inquire as to the personal side effects caused by it."

She blinked again, feigning obliviousness. "Specify."

"Has anything altered in your meditations, in your behavior and/or in your mind overall."

"My charts specifically state that there has been no consequences derived from the SIMULATION. My grandfather has melded with me and has found nothing that deserves concern."

"You know very well that I do not speak of the charts and what others can discover. I am asking about you."

"You are pertaining as to how I ' _feel'_?"

"Correct."

She pondered on that for a moment. "I cannot identify what I currently feel."

Spock then gestured to the empty seat in front of him, and she sat on it with both hands on her lap.

"Mr. Spock … I have a personal query." She asked. "How is your father?"

"Specify." Spock said in a non-mocking tone. He never mocked, especially a guest.

"He lost his wife. His telsu. One that he has bonded with of his own volition." She elaborated as if that should have been answer enough. Shockingly, she refrained from mentioning the common belief that his parents' bonding was … illogical.

"He is how one would be without their telsu." It varied. V'ek could safely guess his answer. Spock would not express his beliefs of his father's current state to an officer he has only seen occasionally.

"I see…" She gulped quickly, however it was not quick enough for Spock to not notice. "My intended has perished with the rest. It is a feeling you do not currently experience. You were always without telsu."

"I was." Spock replied after he realized that she intended no harm with her words. She was only stating fact. "I am." He corrected.

He could not possibly begin to consider Jim as his telsu. If he did, it would make it all too real. Jim was never bonded to him. He may have felt that they were, except in a literal sense … it was all an illusion. Yes, he loved Jim … loves Jim – regardless, they were never bonded - At least not here.

And here was all that mattered.

"His name was Sevish G'ok G’vey. He has been my intended since the age of seven. He was an honorable being - One that was especially keen on exploring. He joined the Vulcan Science Academy just has his family expected of him. He always favored Starfleet, often speaking of you and your actions that were considered rebellious to others - never to him."

The name was not familiar to Spock.

"His mind was also mine and vice-versa." She continued, "We melded frequently. We were to initiate the marital bond after my acceptance into VSA."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because I know you believe the SIM to have _hurt_ me, Mr. Spock." Her blinks were less mechanical this time, her thick black lashes fluttering. "However, I am here to inform you that the way it did was in the most satisfactory method possible. It has temporarily offered me everything that I have lost. My SIMULATION gave me Sevish."

Spock could see that she was speaking the truth. But, "What you speak of is impossible."

V'ek nodded, expecting the reminder of this very fact. "Add-ons are not initially meant to be reflections of those we are already acquainted with. Add-ons are a feature to our SIM with the sole purpose to fill in the world, providing little interaction. They are never meant to have any significance, and yet they always do. Is the SIM world not one we create from our minds? We may not have created the add-ons, but it is unquestionable that they do adapt. They fail to remain insignificant because certain add-ons can eventually become similar to those erased during the memory manipulation process, all with different faces and names. Was that not your experience?"

Spock was the one who swallowed, evaluating her words. His crewmembers had similar traits to the add-ons, except he refused to start comparing since he returned. That would make them less real than they already were.

If he pestered on, they would vanish.

She continued, "I was introduced to an add-on by the name of Frank."

Frank? "A human."

"Indeed. I connected to him the same way I connected to Sevish, except I never knew of a Sevish. Sevish was not real, only Frank." She added with a subtle frown.

This 'Frank' add-on must have had exceptional sentimental value. His own add-ons did in some form or another, and he was not ashamed to say that to himself. Apparently, Grayensha, a full Vulcan, had no qualms in admitting that this add-on was one of those.

But a Vulcan could not form a romantic relationship with an add-on.

Love could manifest between an add-on and human, but for a Vulcan, there was nothing that would allow such a relationship to flourish.

Add-ons were not real.

Their minds were empty and/or they themselves were too broken.

Terrence was a shining example of that.

Despite that … thinking of Terrence was like thinking of the dead, not the deleted.

The dead were mourned.

The deleted were simply erased and acknowledged for what they were. _Pixels_.

"I will confirm your thoughts. My mind recognized Frank. It understood him. Although I could never initiate a link with Frank's mind, I irresponsibly let this connection to grow on a superficial level - A human level, of course. My handicap was one I promised would never hinder our relationship. We never bonded."

Her frown deepened and it became the flame that sparked Spock worry.

"Nonetheless, I will not conceal that I have attempted to do so."

…and it failed. It must have.

Spock breathed in deep. He lived in a society that never desired to work with humans, let alone become acquainted with one. He lived in a society that perpetually made him aware that he lacked, and that his mother's blood was the cause of it.

And here he was, listening to V'ek Grayensha, a woman, a Vulcan Starfleet officer, whom attempted to bond with a human…

And it failed.

"The pain became apparent to me when I awoke, and I instantly understood that my connection to Frank was one forged from my grief by the absence of Sevish."

"I grieve with thee." Spock was at a loss for other words.

She gave him a cautious nod. "Mr. Spock, my actions in the SIM were not logical. My relationship began on a fragile foundation, which was the inability to connect as I would with another Vulcan. When I woke from stasis, I threatened the careers of the medical team that took care of my body for four days. Everything illogical, emotional, and that is not who I am."

"I will ask you again, V'ek…" Spock settled on her first name since she confided in him with her most intimate thoughts. She invited him in. "Why are you here?"

"Because I fear for those that will graduate this year." Her brows met, showing her increasing dread.

"There were originally twenty. Four others have withdrawn per my father's advice." That may not have sounded like many, except it was when speaking of Vulcans. Vulcans never abandoned their academic studies. Whichever field they chose would be the one they completed. "They may all follow suit."

"They are our people. It is our duty to protect them since most of them are so young. We are young ourselves, Mr. Spock."

Spock felt the clenching in his chest.

"And I am here to apprise you that the others refuse to withdraw or are still contemplating which decision is best for them." She said sternly. "I do not wish for those that have decided to remain to leave either, however I am not fully confident if they will be unperturbed after their test."

So they were ready to face the challenge. "You are stable." He observed.

"I could be better. I doubt that your current condition is satisfactory."

"It could be better." He repeated.

"Will it be better for them?" Her concern was evident.

"What do you wish for me to do?"

"Will you endeavor to speak about this to the masses, or will you keep silent?" It was a sincere inquiry, not holding an accusatory tone.

"I do not plan to speak about my experience to anyone outside of those that viewed it. And my concerns were deemed insignificant by those very individuals."

"The Admirals must fully understand the damage that they are inflicting. Another negotiation attempt has to be made. One that expresses the details of the side-effects."

"That we are emotionally compromised." In a way, Spock made it clear to them that he was. He did so after his POST – SIM interview, in the private room. They acted oblivious. Many cared, and many were incapable of that care.

Numb.

More inhuman than those that _judged_.

"And are we not? Also, are we to be penitent for mentioning the errors within the program? Do the Admirals not wish for us to be efficient? How can we be one hundred percent efficient if we have to heal? Are we not already endeavoring to heal? Eleven cadets in the final year alone are the sole carriers of their family name. They cannot be subjected to this test simply because of the paranoia that has originated from one illogical man and his illegally gathered crew."

"Your logic rings true. However, I regret to inform you that they have a chronic tendency for selective hearing. My concerns are not enough. They solely focus on the positives this program has brought and will continue to bring." They were the casualties. "Also, I am half-Vulcan."

"I am aware." She answered as if that had little to no significance. The warmth in Spock's chest was reminiscent to the one that would have risen in his childhood by his mother's hugs. He should have been immune to all reactions when one was informed of his physiology, except the memories of hateful chants from the SIM made him susceptible to moments like these all over again.

It was clear that she perceived Spock's words as those equivalent to every Vulcan.

She wished for him to speak for them.

Jim's common query in the SIM was one that deserved to be spoken now. _How did he end up here?_

"Then many will claim that my feelings, that the consequences, that my current condition is a result of my human half - of my weakness." He elaborated. "That my mental strain was a unique sensitivity."

She flinched by his monotonous cynical expectations. "You are valued by Starfleet. The others believe that you are the one likely to use your position to bring attention to this. If not… Then what are we to do?"

"… I am assuming that you wish to become a commanding officer?" He rhetorically asked, knowing full well that she intended to do so. She graduated on the command track and was a well vouched for pilot.

She nudged her head up. "I wish to become Captain." She exuded pride, and pride was looked down upon within their people.

'Captain' was not what he expected.

Her tone reminded him of Jim. "The first Vulcan Captain of Starfleet." Spock said, making sure to conceal his surprise.

"You have seniority." V'ek pursed her lips. "You are currently Commander. Surely you will become Captain before I."

"Negative. I do not foresee myself pursuing a captaincy."

Grayensha's facial features softened, and she fidgeted with her fingers for a brief moment. "That is regretful to hear."

"As someone who desires to be Captain, as a Vulcan officer with experiences that provide irrefutable proof that cannot be argued, you are the most prospective individual to speak of exactly what these programs can do. Our people come to you. They learn from you. They have not approached me, Lieutenant, nor have they bothered to."

Her eyes sharpened as if panicked, "I assure you, the respect we have for you is immeasurable."

"And it is well received. With that aside, the reality stands – if you wish to protect the future from enduring any more hardship, then it is you who should speak. Ensign S'kuul has taken his leave. You and I are the only ones left, and your involvement in this is imperative."

"Commander – "

"And if you do speak, it will not be to the Admirals, but to anyone willing to listen. As of now, the negotiations have been ineffective."

"The Ambassador has updated us on the matter." The disappointment of it rang in every syllable. Her lips parted, Spock's suggestion causing a moment of pause. She shut her mouth, blinking again.

It was a spontaneous idea. In a world in which he observed no solutions, he saw an opportunity presented before him.

V'ek Grayensha – she was perfect and willing to walk down this line of scorching fire. From what Spock has deduced of her character so far, the probability of her participation was high.

Again, his judgment of character was a flawed reference to depend on – nevertheless, it was all he had to go on.

Spock was willing to retreat, but to witness firsthand the support that was waiting to be utilized, it showed him that this insane notion could have a fighting chance.

At the very least, he could work in the shadows.

"In conclusion, we either remain silent just as we have been before, or …"

> _**Pixels – pixels – pixels!** _
> 
> _**That's all I thought of when I first saw the stars after my POST- SIM eval.** _
> 
> _**Now I don't see any.** _
> 
> _**The pollution levels are basically gone, but with the amount of city lights in Hong Kong, the stars don't get a chance.** _
> 
> _**Do you see the stars in your SIM, Spock?** _
> 
> _**Twenty four days in, and I'm still wondering…** _
> 
> _**And please, when you wake up – avoid the news. It hasn't been treating you and Kirk well lately. Global stardom has its flaws.** _
> 
> _**Both of you will undoubtedly reach the maximum now. It’s only three days from today. I have no clue as to why that is.** _
> 
> _**Whatever happens – tell me. Please.** _

V'ek interjected, "… This requires meditation." She slowly stood up, pulling down her black long-sleeved shirt. She swayed for a second, as if adjusting to the new weight settling on her shoulders.

"Then do so." He nodded, standing up right after.

"Your words have persuaded me to view matters in a different perspective." She added smoothly, when she looked to have been informed of an incoming hostile ship. "The idea of all of us abandoning our earned positions is not an appealing one."

"I hope it does not come to that." He said in a manner that was foreign to him. This was SIM Spock speaking, and Spock did not appreciate his return.

SIM Spock had characteristics he admired and loathed simultaneously.

When Grayensha raised a sharp brow, it forced Spock to contemplate if he did the same this much in the eyes of his comrades. "We do not hope. We analyze the data presented to us, and calculate the most probable outcome in all situations."

"In our current situation, the variables required for an accurate estimation are unreliable. It seems that all we are left with is the concept of 'hope'."

V'ek then appeared amused, "Is this something you have learned from Captain Kirk?"

Not just Jim. "From my crew."

His crew.

The twinkle in her eye brightened. She trod to the door after ridding herself of the animated expression. "Then for our people, I will also hope, Mr. Spock."

"Prefixes are not necessary between us. You may address me as Spock in any setting."

Spock noticed a subtle smile form on her lips as she raised a ta’al. She then exited his office. V'ek Grayensha was someone he looked forward to becoming acquainted with.

It was Jim that wished to bring ruin, and Spock shuddered at the thought of what his Captain could be contemplating in this moment. Spock was determined to ignore it before, leaving all this behind.

The Universe would not allow him to forget.

In the meantime, he knew exactly how to spend his time and whom to assess his thoughts with.

Spock provided another perspective today, so perhaps he could receive one too.

**.**

**.**

**.**

> **_ CALL ACCEPTED … _ **
> 
> **_ CONNECTED 1417.09… _ **

 

_"Spock?"_

 

\- Where are you currently located?

 

_"I'm still in Hong Kong."_

 

\- Where is your next destination?

 

_"I decided on Ang Mo Kio, Singapore. I'm not following the list in order. Logically I should be following it for less travel time, but I don't care much right now."_

 

\- I see …

 

_"Funny. No mention of my unproductive decisions."_

 

_\- …_

 

_"Anyways, my system says you opened all the videos."_

 

\- I have.

 

_"But you haven't responded to my messages."_

 

\- I have been occupied.

 

_"But you had enough time to view my videos?"_

 

\- Nyota …

 

_"What's going on, Spock?"_

 

\- Forming a proper explanation is proving to be a complicated endeavor.

 

_"Sulu said that Kirk scared him. Scott's not picking up his comm. Now, it appears they're both ignoring me. Perhaps Kirk told them of your grade. Perhaps not? Regardless, you never told me. That's not like you. I didn't tell you to call me immediately, but I hoped that it was obvious."_

 

\- It is an intricate matter.

 

_"Then talk to me. Please, Spock."_

 

\- When do you intend to debark for Singapore?

 

_"One more day. I can send you further information if you're worried about my safety. … You're still avoiding the topic, Spock."_

 

\- I require a friend.

 

_"And you're talking to one."_

 

\- I wish to be with you. Would you be amenable to complete a portion of that list with a partner?

 

_"… Spock? As I remember correctly, you said that you were to do SIM summaries and wanted to stay with Kirk until we leave for our mission. I knew he kicked everyone out of SIM duty, I just didn't think you were a part of that."_

 

\- That is no longer the case.

 

_"I'll say this again. Talk to me. I'm worried."_

 

\- I do not wish to worry you.

 

_"Still worried. You don't mean to do it, but you still do."_

 

\- That is not my intention.

 

_"Did you FAIL?"_

 

\- Nyota…

 

_"Spock … You got a compatibility transfer. You must have. I knew it. I knew it! You need to go and fix this, Spock. You're more compatible with us. With me! Your differences with Kirk are what make you an efficient team. Granted, improvements are needed, except the idea of separation is an idiotic one. I knew some machine would point that out as a hindrance to the crew. Forget those SIM scores."_

 

\- It is not that –

 

_"Don't say it's not that simple. Use that fame you hate to acknowledge. You're First Officer of the Enterprise. If non-Starfleet civilians can't name a single ship, they sure know the Enterprise, and they know you! No – Kirk promised us. I know he's trying his hardest to keep you as we speak. He. Promised."  
_

 

\- Nyota … the list.

 

_"Right. The list. Come here then. I don't mind you joining me for a time. I'll hear everything you have to say, but mark my words, Spock – the purpose of this list is because we'll be gone for five years. Five. So you're coming with me after all this."_

 

\- I cannot promise –

 

_"Spock, we may not be romantically involved, but I need you on this mission. If there's a way to rectify this, then please do so. … I swear, this is the last thing we need after everything we've been through. Expect a text with further details, okay?"_

 

\- That is appreciated.

 

_"And don't ignore me again. You know very well that this is the worst time to do that."_

> _** CALL DISCONNECTED 1423.32 ** _

 


	54. POST SIM - PART TWENTY ONE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beware – Time Skip.  
> The chapter prior to this one will be uploaded soon.  
> Warning: Mentions of sexual harassment and an abuse of power.  
> Song: Epithelial by Crywolf & ECHOS
> 
> Much Love,
> 
> ~X

** POST SIM - PART TWENTY ONE  
**

Looking at his kitchen, Leonard noticed that the amount of ingredients in the fridge and in the cabinets were almost depleted. He cooked endlessly today, making packets of 'ready to heat up' meals for the week, fully intending to stuff himself with non-artificial and synthesized necessities his body needed to function. Much of it wasn't to his taste, but it was food nonetheless. His palate could survive for the next couple days. His organs would thank him in the end.

There were rumors of what the SIM Ops ingested on the regular while on an assignment, and most of it consisted of energy drinks. When that piece of information came to his attention, Leonard thought of SIM Jim, and his habits before he joined Warehouse 15.

If there was any correlation, it didn't matter now.

 

He subtly smiled to himself, knowing full well that the first made packets were possible because of Spock. Obviously, he could have run a few errands, except if he wanted to be brutally honest with himself, there was no time for such an errand.

It was incredibly stupid that he didn't gather his own supplies while shopping with Spock – his mind completely immersed in getting the task done.

It made him wonder how he ever multi-tasked in the past.

Now it was a new dawn, new day. Earlier, he took to quickly ordering new groceries online for the first time, so that they could be delivered to him, which he finished prior to cleaning his dust filled and neglected home. If someone walked in last night and noticed that a decent twenty percent of his cabinets consisted of whisky, he would deny it – claiming that the observer was suffering from hallucinations.

Spock never mentioned it.

 

Originally, he wanted to start some sort of barbecue for the afternoon, however he settled for some beef wraps, Caesar salads with an overabundance of black pepper and water based banana smoothies.

 

With everything presented neatly on his living room center table, he stepped back and exhaled from a job well done.

His shoulders drooped in the empty room. The silence of it all forced his mind to think of nothing but SIMs, SIMs, SIMs. He could see officers clinging to mountains, running from add-ons they once called friends, losing faith and hysterically laughing when the finality of it all was undeniable. There was regret lingering in every part of his body.

Luckily, making this food was a great distraction from it all since he wasn't allowed to work per SIM regulation.

With everything complete, Leonard crashed on his couch and stared at the ceiling. Echoes of his unnecessarily harsh conversation with Jim resurfaced in his mind. He meant to be of some support for Jim, and instead he used his knowledge to deliver some tough love that Jim could have done without.

What's worse is that in the end, he didn't have the guts to look back and cast one last look at Jim before he left. There were no preparations for witnessing the shock that slowly morphed into sadness on Jim's face.

Leonard may have tried to add more pressure in order for Jim to finally confess the truth, but through it all, he felt his suspicion spiking up from every effort Jim made to evade the topic at hand.

His muscles were tense, anxious of the earthquake coming their way. This time, he couldn't properly estimate the casualties. Heck, they could all go down.

In the end, he came to peace with his position. All he could do was sit and wait, all while caring for the wounded to the best of his ability.

**.**

**.**

**.**

Leonard patted his hands on his thighs as he made his way to his door. His guest wasn't one that liked to wait, especially in the growing cold. When he opened the door, Leonard greeted his guest with a big, inviting smile.

"Welcome, welcome."

M'Benga stood with one thick brow peaked high while straightening his burgundy dress shirt. "You seem overly joyous."

"I'm capable of that, you know." He stepped to the side to let M'Benga enter, then shut the door.

"Very peculiar, McCoy."

"Life is one peculiar ball, filled with galaxy wide questions. And please, we're back to first name basis." He requested as he headed back to the kitchen.

"My mistake. It's just been too long." M'Benga said, settling in one of the couches.

"Too damn long." Leonard agreed, taking out the bottles. "So, you got two choices. Irish or Canadian."

"Never Canadian." M'Benga answered immediately. "Everything here is drool worthy and actually healthy. If I didn't know better, I'd say you're trying to woo me, Leonard."

The comment caused a laugh foreign to Leonard's throat. "I can't afford to be a hypocrite." He responded, taking the tops off the bottles.

"You've been hypocritical all month." M'Benga jibed childishly with a mischievous snicker Leonard could hear from a cross the room.

And Leonard had too much ammo to ignore it, "This coming from Mr. I don't recall the definition or the vital purpose of sleep. Mr. You're not allowed to lie on the attendance logs, but you know what – I'll do those too. Mr. I shave and shower at HQ because I refuse to go home. Mr. Let's update our reports every chance– "

"I'm not denying a thing." M'Benga gave Leonard one playful expression when he turned around, resting one elbow on the back of the couch.

Leonard took a few steps, arriving to the table near the couches and placed the bottles beside to the cups and plates. "Good, 'cause that's an argument you'd lose."

"True." M'Benga nodded, getting more comfortable in his seat, crossing one knee over the other. "But you were my inspiration, I'll add."

Leonard fell in his seat with one loud huff. "Guilty as charged."

"You seem to be doing better, Leonard. Even cleaned yourself up a bit."

Yep. "Mhmm."

M'Benga speculated for a moment. "Even found the time to sign my report."

"You signed mine." He rebutted quicker than appropriate.

"You must have questions." M'Benga concluded. "Galaxy wide ones." He added with a taunting tone.

Leonard tilted his head, squinting his eyes. "You stole Jim." He accused in a monotonous manner.

A grin appeared on the side of M'Benga's mouth. "You stole Spock."

"Touché."

If one were to cast one glance at them, they would say these were two men with physically different characteristics and absolutely nothing alike. But in their eyes Leonard and M'Benga were looking into a mirror. They stared at the other with blank, tired expressions. It was a small, subdued challenge – The very kind that would expose who would crack first.

Surprisingly, a winner was never discovered.

"How is he?" They asked over the other.

Another laugh escaped them as they leaned back in their seats, perfectly reflecting the other.

"Spock's leaving." Leonard confessed what he's observed and heard so far. "Completing that list with Uhura. You know, the one she's been building up for the last year."

"I figured as much." M'Benga showed zero signs of surprise. "Hopefully each location is far from Starfleet influence."

"Well, I can tell you that Georgia's on the list. I suggested it a long time back. I don't even remember when. Heck, I might just tag along." As soon as Leonard said it, a small snort came from his colleague.

He could tell that it was the kind of snort that spontaneously came out as a last defense mechanism to prevent a full-blown hysterical guffaw.

"Funny." M'Benga settled.

He simply shrugged. "We might not kill each other."

"There are things far worse than death."

And didn't they know it.

"Kirk has fully immersed himself in his work." M'Benga continued after clearing his throat, attempting to deviate from the topic. "I would say it's a good thing, considering the changes taking place all around us, except we know better. This is merely serving as a distraction, and he's deliberately ignoring his predicament."

"Right …" Leonard knew as much. Every text was met with a short one. Jim didn't even have the decency of sending sentences, all fragments of fabricated thoughts. "It's a better distraction than most. When people desperately seek one, they mainly end up with destructive kinds, one way or another."

"I'm thankful for his more healthy alternative." M'Benga hummed. "He's doing a splendid job. His dedication is impeccable." He added, "Don't misunderstand, it was expected, however I expected at least a few days of rest."

"I expected Spock to sleep too." Leonard's irritation wasn't hidden. "Guess our expectations were too high in that department." If Leonard mentioned sedatives one more time, he feared Spock would just pinch him, leaving him on the floor for God know how long.

M'Benga's brows knitted together. "At least he's meditating."

"It depends. What's the normal duration for it to be considered meditation?"

"It varies." M'Benga tapped his chin in thought. "Minimum of thirty minutes, and that's only for sessions in between time demanding situations. When a Vulcan has the time, they strive for an hour and fifteen to three hours. For more in depth meditations - a whole day. More can be achieved, of course."

"Like retreats?"

"Specifically for retreats. A spiritual time of isolation, they say."

"I know he doesn't sleep much. At least he tries. Anyways, I'm going to assume he's meditating when he traps himself in his room."

"He could also be wallowing."

"Too human." He said instinctively. Right when he uttered those words, he was anxious to take them back.

"And isn't he, Leonard?" M'Benga blinked up at him, earnestly curious of Leonard's response. "Human too."

"I can't say otherwise anymore, can I?" Leonard corrected. If he were to see some glimpse of his future before all of this, specifically this scenario, he wouldn't have believed what he just said.

Leonard was a romantic, and although the idea of 'love' or 'true love' was placed aside with Santa Clause for the majority, he still believed – even when things tumbled down the mountain for him. And yet … to see such a thing manifest in front of his eyes – It pained to remember it all.

M'Benga and him said many times that they felt like spectators into a secret they should have had no part of.

"This thing that they did … God, they actually - "

M'Benga shifted in his seat, clearing his throat again. "The marital bond?"

"Yes, that. You still hold the same opinion, correct?"

"I do. Although they have to deal with the added SIM trauma, what they're dealing with right now are the typical emotional disturbances that you and I have experienced in the past. By no means do they resemble the consequences of a broken bond."

Relief washed over again.

He would bathe in it if he could.

M'Benga snapped his lips, "However – "

Then the relief dissipated.

"You can't just say that, then add a ' _However'_." He interjected in slight panic.

"You have to understand that Spock is the first of his kind. All information collected of the first surviving hybrid of this mixture is speculative and is subject to change. Spock denied further testing, insisting that he's _fine_."

"Should we believe that?"

"I would." There wasn't a slither of doubt. "He wouldn't deceive us about something that could injure our Captain in any way."

And he was right. "Shit."

"Shit, indeed." M'Benga poured himself two fingers. "I think all we can do is make sure everything goes back to normal. As much as it can with the transfers, at least."

"Since Jim's looking into the transfers, I might ask him about some people." Leonard mentioned with a few names in mind.

Apparently, M'Benga didn't need to hear names. "Kim and Lee, I'm assuming."

"Right on."

"And they won't shrivel at the sight of Kirk and Spock? I can see them turning scarlet already."

"We've discussed that. I could use them, especially for a mission this long and they're willing to try. Their compatibility scores align with ours, so it's possible they'll get recommended."

M'Benga took a careful sip and sighed. "I suppose that while you're at it, it's the prime time to ask you to suggest  Lenny."

"Gavin Lenny?" He questioned for more clarification.

"Yes." M'Benga confirmed.

"But he's Chief Medical of USS Xavier." An officer in such a position would never transfer, unless they were replacing another. It was almost laughable.

Except M'Benga didn't appear to be laughing. "Indeed he is."

Leonard was having complications putting this puzzle together. "That would mean a demotion."

'Cause he knew he wasn't quittin'.

"Not that far down actually."

The gulp in M'Benga's voice reintroduced Leonard's temporarily lost tension to his shoulders. He shot a scrutinizing glare and took in every detail of M'Benga, watching him grab a wrap and take a bite in an attempt to pause the train of dialogue.

"I'm not liking this …"

M'Benga continued to chew agonizingly slow.

"Jabilo, I don't need someone coming in, thinking they own the place." He emphasized the blaring point. "He's going to take the Bridge Officer's test soon. Have you spoken to him, because there's no way he's thinking of the Enterprise."

A swallow later, "He is already trained for prolonged missions."

That was beside the point. "Why're you even pitching him?"

"Because although I trust Kim and Lee, I trust Lenny more. I need to make sure that –"

"Make sure of what, exactly?" Realization dawned on Leonard, causing him to jump up from his seat. He leaned closer across the table, palms on the glass surface. "You're starting to sound like you're not going to be there. '

M'Benga dropped his eyes. "I'm going to remain planetside."

Leonard could have commended himself for not shouting. "Give me one good reason on why you'd do that?"

"Spock."

It was then that Leonard decided that he couldn't possibly persuade M'Benga to sway from this idea of leaving. It was evident that his partner thought long and hard about this.

"You'll have a great team, Leonard." M'Benga attempted to reassure him. "And it's all in your hands. Good hands."

"Still. It would've been better with you." All good feelings were vacuumed from his soul as he sat back down again.

"I know." M'Benga said so nonchalantly.

With a scoff, Leonard pushed a plate closer to M'Benga and demanded that he shove down all the contents down his esophagus. His guest obliged with a snicker.

"Hope you choke on it." He was going to miss this fella.

"Don't curse me. I'm very much looking forward to this meal."

"Eat it while you still can. Lord knows that when we pick things back up again, we're stuck watching over bodies and evaluations."

Another pause, "I've been thinking - "

"Do enlighten me."

"Kirk requested that we should cease all SIM duties – "

Leonard shook his head. "No."

Jim couldn't order them around about this since he didn't appoint them. This was going to be their occupation until this havoc settled.

"Leonard," M'Benga said softly enough to cause alarm. "You fulfilled your promise."

"You know damn well that I didn't. A half-assed promise isn't a promised fulfilled." Leonard cringed at the concept. "It's just a half-assed promise."

"She'll understand."

"And how will that conversation go exactly? _'Hey, Christine. It's common knowledge that I've watched over the senior crews' SIMs and all the others I've personally promised, but it seems that I'm going to have to chicken out when you're the only one left.'"_

"Leonard – "

"I'm not that kind of man. I promised, so until she gets her appointment, I stay on the roster."

M'Benga let out a defeated breath. He wasn't an inconsiderate man. He just wanted the best for his colleague, and he trusted the SIM Med team enough for his suggestion to not cause a guilty conscious.

"Until she gets her appointment then."

**.**

**.**

**.**

> _Good Evening and welcome to **Prime Time.**_
> 
> _I am Celine Varra, and I will be temporarily replacing Marisol Vogul for the evening._
> 
> _We will begin with our first story - the sudden arrest of Witwicker Fazim, CTO of the growing conglomerate BLOOM corp. Various reports have been delivered to SFPD, further proving the accusation against him for the alleged sexual harassment among several of his employees and interns._

 

"It's odd, seeing her in such a professional setting." Leonard jested, swirling the drink in his cup with a full stomach.

"Normally, she would add multiple side comments, and say ' _viewers'_ after every sentence. Her fan base is of a younger demographic, so I can only assume that it's to appease them." M'Benga inputted, pointing towards the holoscreen. "Frankly, I'm surprised they let her on here, considering her _hair_."

Leonard found the locks to be very attractive. "It's lavender."

"It's unprofessional."

"She certainly has the credentials. And she's far less rigid than Vogul." But then, the more Varra spoke, the more he grimaced. "And I'll have you know that her fan base is of a large variety. But I guess I'll admit that this entire appearance's too robotic though. What happened to her sass? Her vibrancy?"

> _Fazim is expected to face seventeen charges of sexual harassment and six charges of extortion. All the women whom have come forward expressed their desire to testify._

 

"She sacrificed it for Prime Time." M'Benga answered.

 Leonard moped child-like.

> _One thing has been inarguable throughout our previous exclusive interviews. Fazim's promotion was one that manifested through his privileged upbringing and his close familial relations throughout the company. Because of this, others turned the other cheek feigning ignorance, beleiving that he held enough power to trample over those that come forward.  
>  _
> 
> _In the end, justice prevails. But is it not disturbing that the track to justice was impossibly bumpy? Think of this._
> 
> _It took seventeen. Seventeen victims for this to come to our attention. Seventeen. Despite that, the majority doubted the authenticity of the victims' claims until there was video evidence of Fazim demanding a massage with a 'happy ending'!_
> 
> _In my book, those who kept Fazim's secret, those that stood idle as this took place around them, should all be shoved in the same dusty cell._

 

"Well then … it seems she provided Prime Time the wrong goat to slaughter." M'Benga comfortably inched back, taking a swing of his drink, emptying the cup completely.

"Good." Leonard mused, watching Varra touch her earpiece with her index finger.

> **_Breaking News._** _I'm going to halt my report on this to express my views in another widespread matter. This just in, it seems we have a viral video in our grasps._
> 
> _Play clip._

 

Suddenly both of them were presented with a set of blue irises and a reserved face. It was the face that gave them orders. The face that saved their behinds. The face Leonard shared a room with for years. The face of his best friend.

It was a face that was unreachable, once again making Leonard feel useless in his position.

It was like watching the SIM all over again.

Except this time, Leonard didn't have the ability to look into the future, seeing the exact consequences of this action. Instead, as the words danced away from the speakers and swiveled into his ears, he truly recognized that they were all prisoners of time.

He called Spock about his inclinations yesterday. In some form, something was to be expected. He knew it the second Jim shrugged and decided to lie to his face.

And yes, he expected something – just not in this capacity. This earthquake reached an unimaginable magnitude.

> **_CONNECTING CALL …_ **

M'Benga gracefully stood up from his seat, stepping closer without looking away from the broadcast. He squinted his eyes as he bent down, briefly casting a glance to Leonard behind him, as if asking if he was seeing this too.

This wasn't a dream, Leonard confirmed with a nod.

And if it were, it would be a nightmare.

> **_CALL DISCONNECTED_ **
> 
> **\- Spock**

"It appears that a visit is in order." M'Benga suggested, trying his best to find some control in all of this.

It was the perfect echo to Leonard's thoughts. 

> **_CONNECTING CALL …_ **

The screen shifted back to Varra, and for the first time since she graced the screens of every home on Earth, she had absolutely nothing to say.

> **_CALL DISCONNECTED_ **
> 
> **\- James Kirk**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now I'm off to watch this presidential debate.  
> Already cringing. 
> 
> ~X


	55. POST SIM – PART TWENTY

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m going to cheat and say ‘Double Update!!’  
> Two chapters in one b/c I lost my Vulcan mind.  
> *hides under desk*
> 
> Warning: Switching POVs  
> Song: Blue Ain't Your Color by RUNAGROUND
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> ~X

** POST SIM - PART TWENTY**

 

"Again."

Jim rolled his shoulders, groaning to the ceiling with childlike protest. His muscles were beginning to stiffen from sitting in this enlarged empty room for the last hour. His active nerves were slowly being replaced by irritation.

The source of it all spoke again, "Are you ready this time?"

The question bounced off Jim's eardrums, making him squirm. It might as well have been a sudden scream – a waking call to the position he put himself in. His response to Gregory was a bitter laugh, briefly covering his eyes with his shaking palm.

"And if I said I am?" He replied. "That I'm actually ready- "

Gregory crossed his arms, standing poised next to the tall camera and the recently turned off lighting backdrops. "Then I would take this opportunity to remind you that lying isn't tolerated."

 

They all knew Jim wasn't ready, and if time were like a SIM, perhaps they all would have given Jim more time. It was unfortunate that one could not pause the Universe by manipulating a consul.

Edmond sat in the far corner and watched with his chin resting on his knuckles. The Dhars could see Jim's nervousness. Then again, if one wanted to be truthful, an obtuse toddler could notice it.

 

Taking advantage of the break, Jim abandoned his seat, blinking away the green blobs flashing behind his retinas derived from the light he stared at for three minutes straight … again.

The only thought repeating in his head was that the light was too bright. So bright, that when first flashed, Jim jerked away from it by mere reflex. The sudden adrenaline begged for release. Once this was all over, Jim concluded that another run would be the best idea.

 

"Maybe this is too soon." He blurted out without proper thought.

Gregory's jaw darted to the right. "We can't afford – "

"You're beginning to sound like a broken record. I'm well aware." It's just that every soul was allowed to complain now and then.

Edmond hummed, "Your thoughts are still clouded by the possible aftereffects of this video."

"The immediate ones at least." And those made Jim shiver.

"Then concentrate on the long-term ones." Gregory suggested, taking a step near his father. "Only those."

And so Jim did. He concentrated solely on the long-term results, each equating to his success.

"Long-term." Jim breathed in. "Long-term."

Long term was all that mattered.

Long term was what kept him going.

Something had to, for this was just the first step on the stairway.

**.**

**.**

**.**

 

Spock was speaking to Nyota through the transmission he transferred to his main holoscreen in the living room while he paced back and forth, collecting items for his trip.

"You are tired." He said, after pausing in his step, taking a closer look at the enlarged image of Nyota.

She quickly shook her head. Surprisingly, she did not deny his observation as most people did when confronted by their state of temporarily deprived energy. _"Too many time zone adjustments to handle."_

"Then I do not see why you would subject yourself to video calls for the sole purpose of watching me assemble the necessary items for my venture."

 _"Because it's nice."_ A smile formed on her face as she moved a strand of hair away, _"Besides, I've accepted this challenge before I began writing down the first destination for my list."_

"Nice?" Spock iterated, skeptical and attempting to deduce Nyota's true agenda.

 _"That, and I wanted to see your face."_ She giggled.

The thing was, Spock has seen Nyota _giggle_ two times in his life.

Three.

Spock took a moment, eventually seeing that this demeanor was one of excitement. A reunion much anticipated on both parts.

"You have ample opportunity to 'see my face' in six hours and eleven minutes. That is, if the flight is met without interruptions."

 _"Don't jinx it."_ She snorted. She parted her lips to say something else, except she shut them soon after, distracted by something in her sights, _"…Spock, are those blankets on your couch?"_

Spock shifted to the exposing materials. "Affirmative."

She raised a questioning brow. " _So Kirk's taken to sleeping over now? Is this revenge for you making home of his guest room?"_

 

Spock's gulp was an audible one. He hesitated turning around at all and facing Nyota for fear that his expression collapsed. Her unquestionable certainty of his close relationship with Jim could have been a physical assault towards his person. It felt identical.

There was always that indefinable look in her gaze, and now with his newfound knowledge, it made him desire to never face another crewmember. It was one thing to come to terms that he was blind, but it seemed that Jim and him were the only ones, especially after considering his returned memories.

He had to push aside the urge to ask. To do so would not be wise. This topic was not one that should be revived through such a non-intimate connection.

 

"You are incorrect. These were for McCoy."

 _"I should say you're lying."_ She replied, slightly baffled. _"But you've never lied to me before."_ Nyota then took to scanning the rest of his environment, her interest spiking exceptionally high. _"Spock? Why would McCoy feel the need to sleep over?"_

"McCoy's paranoia and excessive dedication towards his assigned SIM patients is common knowledge. You were subjected to the same behavior, Nyota."

 _"But he never slept over. I find the idea of him sleeping over your place out of all of us disconcerting."_ Nyota added, rubbing her eyes, the fatigue he pointed out presenting itself. She was assuming that there was something worrying in regard to Spock's health. By her logic, there was no other reason for McCoy to reside here on occasion. _"You've been cleared to leave. Doesn't make much sense, Spock, because if he were so worried, then he wouldn't let you go. M'Benga wouldn't either."_

"McCoy has been frequently present in my daily activities. I can now express that his concerns dissipated to a magnitude that no longer requires perpetual overseeing. M'Benga has stated that my presence will be called upon if needed. It is settled."

Nyota may have interrupted her slumber but with each word Spock uttered, she showed an increasing alertness.

 _"I believe you."_ She said, leaning back on her bed. Briefly, she looked to her right when both her and Spock heard a thump on her end. _"Regardless, I'll be able to tell for myself soon enough."_ She added with a hesitating smile when she directed her attention back to the screen.

 

It was meant to be a calming expression, except it reminded Spock of caution.

Not too quickly, he took to placing the blanket back to the back of his home. When he returned, he saw Nyota looking through a little notebook.

"You prohibited Starfleet related work of any kind for the duration of my attendance. You are not one for hypocritical behavior."

The reversal of their roles caused a low chuckle. _"I'm just making careful sure that we have all our activities in order. Our non-work related activities, of course."_ She informed, looking back at Spock. _"I don't mind going back to some places while I'm here. Plus, we're taking pictures."_

He did not expect any less.

 _"And you're smiling in all of them."_ She commanded as she placed her notebook on the nightstand, a wider more genuine grin presenting on her face.

**.**

**.**

**.**

"Cut!"

"What did I do wrong now?!" Jim jumped up, eagerly craving to just hit Gregory with a nearby pillow. After joining Starfleet, he praised himself in his improved temperament, so this was just another reminder of how the SIM thoroughly fucked him over.

Gregory remained in his spot, tilting his head at Jim. "Subtle pauses are tolerable. There has to be a certain amount to be realistic. Just not this many."

Jim let his weight fall back in his seat, gripping the sides until his knuckles lost color. "I wouldn't be pausing so much if you just gave me back my PADD."

"You can't use that." Gregory said for the millionth time.

"Then a teleprompter." He suggested.

"Too noticeable," Gregory disagreed. "Too synthetic. Too political."

 

He wanted to bark that he didn't care, knowing full well that he did care. That it mattered. Yes, it would be easier, except when one were to look at the finished product, they would think differently.

Jim didn't need the Dhars for this piece of information.

However, they were useful for the discipline.

 

"You have to be you again. I may not know who that is personally, but I'm certain that it's better than this, and I want to see it. I _need_ to see it." Gregory urged more sternly. "Be. Real."

"It's harder than it looks." There was a time when he could speak to the masses without difficulty. He could inspire. It was an ability he wasn't oblivious to.

However, this speech had facts behind it that belonged to him – only him. Soon, it would be whispered on lips that weren't his.

By their advice, he wasn't meant to explain everything, only providing a teaser. To Jim, it was still too much. He cursed under his breath. He had to go wash his face again. His formal silvers threatened to choke the life out of him.

"Kieran!" Edmond called out.

The assistant/receptionist ran back in and sharply exhaled once he took in Jim's glistening forehead. If the kid wasn't so stuffed with manners, Jim might have seen the young man exasperate _'Really?! Again?!'_

Kieran flipped opened his suitcase and approached Jim with a thick, fluffed, powdered brush. "Captain, I recommend that you stop perspiring." He said innocently.

Like Jim's body was some robotic vessel that could simply be reprogrammed - He wasn't a darn add-on.

"I was recently reminded that I'm to be real." Jim smiled to Kieran, showing teeth. "Now, how can I be real if my pores are invisible?" His grin was a cheeky one, and meant as a subtle attack to the uptight suited man that was Gregory.

"Ha. Ha." Gregory delivered the fakest of laughs, dropping his arms. He walked forward and bent to one knee in front of Jim. "I need you to be real, and I also need you to look stable. Under eye bags and a little shine might not mean much to you, but you are about to be the face of a bigger fight. So yes, be real. In the same breath, I won't deny that aesthetic is vital."

Jim was unaware of the bristles gliding across his skin, his mind overflowed by his predicament. The message was clear. He was to be real in emotion only.

What if his 'real' was unstable?

The type of real that consisted of sleeping with two blankets to replace the comfort of another body? The type of real that was not appropriate in his desires? The type of real that was too invested in some of his crew, definitely not fitting of a Captain?

 

A beep took place. The source of it derived from Edmond's pocket. The older Dhar slowly stood up to walk out of the room to answer the call. Kieran followed soon after.

Jim nodded when the double doors shut.

"Great." Gregory rose up and nudged to the woman behind the camera. They were going to try this again. "You're lucky there isn't much to do in that department anyways."

 

Jim was about to point out the underlying compliment in a typical humorous tone - then the illuminating flash descended on him again, preventing him from doing so.

It wasn't the rays of the sun. It wasn't real.

And in Jim's mind, that translated into a light that could kill.

 

He cleared his parched throat, softening his sharp features that built up through his failed takes. He ignored the sensation of nakedness of his hands and of his face, void of a protective helmet. "Greetings. I am Captain James Kirk of the – "

"Stop that." Gregory suddenly interrupted. A louder groan escaped his lips at the exact moment when the camera lady wiped her face and took a few paces back with a heavy sigh.

Jim narrowed his eyes. "I will abandon all professionalism and curse you."

"Why did you _smile_?" Gregory asked with palms out, probably ready to curse Jim too.

"That's what people do." It was a mask all Starfleet was accustomed to lately, if anything. It was inviting.

In spite of that, it wasn't the answer Gregory wanted to hear. "But are _you_ happy?"

"…no."

"Then no smiling in your introduction, Captain Kirk. The audience will see right through that in seconds."

**.**

**.**

**.**

The call with Nyota ended, the video being replaced by pending notifications flashing on the screen. One in particular continued to blink at him, teasing him as it did for the last hour. Spock was determined to ignore it.

He could not bear the expense of acknowledging it.

His future actions and intentions would be questionable if he did, and it was imperative that he remained on this path – far, far away from uncertainties. For he understood that he was capable of abandoning his plans by one wishful plea … or worse, he could crumble in fetal position by one more assertion of detestation. It was too risky.

And yet, he defied logic and avoided to set it for deletion.

He should delete it.

"Computer." He began.

_Awaiting command._

 

The silence that followed should have been shameful. The computer subsequently shut off by his lack of instruction.

He was affected by sentimentality. It was not the first and would not be the last.

Spock folded another shirt, hearing the final beep around him. He needed this trip. He desired to be in Nyota's presence, and he did not mind seeing more of this planet. By the very thought of Terra, flashes of desolate ruin sparked behind his eyelids. This was the logical method of rectification.

The fact that he never considered such a venture was an irresponsible one. This was now his home. He had the means and the time.

His pending transfer status was one that would not cause a single individual to bat an eye, and in spite of that, it had the same potential to direct attention of how the transfer came to be. Processing had yet to begin for his resignation. He wished for everything to be finalized prior to his return, ready for a new path – one that he was still unaware of where it would direct him.

Another Vulcan – Andorian – Betazoid – gone.

Spock continued to pack more of his items, and he did so all while ignoring the basket McCoy brought in - The basket of toiletries and other items that were removed from Jim's home.

When he first observed the fullness of the basket, Spock knew the amount was not intentional. He did not intend to 'make home' as Nyota assumed. It was the subtle accumulation from every visit – every day that ended with a spontaneous gesture that silently implored for Spock to stay.

He zipped his first bag and walked past the basket, for every object in it was a duplicate of what was already in his home.

As he was finishing his task, not once did his mind wander into delicate territories. Especially those that were filled with queries such as, 'Did Jim's doors still invite him in, or would they remained closed like some stranger?'

Never.

**.**

**.**

**.**

If the situation weren't so severe, Jim might have laughed at what he must have looked like. His mouth was open, and by some means the words refused to make their smooth exit, getting clogged somewhere in his throat, momentarily causing him to choke.

His composure wasn't the best and at the same time, it was somehow doing its job of concealing the very fact that he might have lost it for real this time.

 

Gregory snapped his fingers twice and the camerawoman tiredly glanced up, then with each clunk of her heels, she was gone.

Edmond had yet to return and maybe this was for the better. He certainly trusted his son to overlook the situation. It must have been a method of giving Jim some well-needed privacy.

It was just Jim and Gregory.

 

When the cup was placed into his palms, he soaked the contents down his deprived throat, forgetting the fact that he never asked for water to begin with.

"At least we got half way this time."

Jim wiped his mouth and tsked. "There was enough material in there. I don't see the need to repeat it."

Gregory slumped in the seat his father left vacant. "You're suggesting that I edit?"

That's exactly what he was suggesting, so he nodded in the affirmative.

"Proper solution. Shame we can't make use of it."

"Why not?" Jim asked.

"Tell me. When you're addressing your crew through the ship comm, do you edit your words? Do you have them prepackaged somewhere, all perfect and finalized?"

Instead of answering the obvious, Jim took to taking another gulp of his cold water.

"You see, Captain. Such a tactic wouldn't be beneficial in the end. Editing suggests that your thoughts are less authentic. Pauses which include moments of thoughts are acceptable, but to cut them out entirely would arise unnecessary doubt."

"Stupid." Jim muttered to himself. It's not as if the message would have changed.

"Not my opinion." Gregory stated, subliminally saying that he was the public's brain. He lived and breathed optics.

"Then I guess we'll give Earth and some other Federation planets front row seats to a panic attack." He scoffed with the thickest sarcasm he could muster.

Gregory didn't answer, looking to the window instead. The sky was empty. It was safe.

It was an illusion.

 

The silence dragged on too long. "Mr. Dhar …"

"Time is of the essence." Gregory simply said.

 

Something inside Jim cracked at the proclamation. Despite being fully conscious and reintegrated into the real world, that hammer made its reintroduction. It never left, staying hidden – silent and forever dangerous.

It was waiting for the prime opportunity to strike.

And so it did … held by Gregory Dhar's hand.

 

Jim saw it a mile away. He almost fidgeted at the impact, except he was so used to it, he remained as still as a leaf in the dry weather.

"Listen here," Jim began, avoiding the temptation to just clench his teeth. "If there's anyone who understands the importance of time, it's me."

"Because you're a Captain." Gregory concluded out loud.

"Like I said."

A quirk of a smirk threatened to appear on the Dhar's face, "Then understand that when you look into those lenses, you are addressing the future. You are known to have saved millions. Think about what your leadership could begin? Once we succeed, you'll be saving more, and will continue to do so after you're placed in your grave." Gregory turned back to face him, leaning forward with his elbows perfectly placed on his knees. "You. Are. A. Hero – "

Jim stopped him right there. "I said I was a Captain. Not a hero." The terms were not synonymous in his book.

"Forgive me, but when one saves lives – the world tends to use the title ' _hero'_."

"What of the hero's failures?" Jim rose from his seat again, and took long strides to the far off table so that he could place his cup on it. It was a simple action with a clear purpose. It was also an excuse to stretch his limbs. That, and he also wanted to not be in Gregory's purview. "Do those failures just get kicked to the curb like some garbage? Is a hero pure and without flaws, everything forgotten?"

 

The Dhars were trying to make him fucking majestic.

Fuck being majestic.

 

"No. That garbage dump is just rarely reflected upon. It's mainly brought into the spotlight if it's the hero's very final act, or if it's something remarkably detrimental to one's character." Gregory continued to educate Jim on the matter, These weren't his thoughts, Jim reminded himself. "Society tends to refuse the concrete truth if there are better options, easier options. You're a person. One with flaws, like the rest of us, I'll add. But that's not what we're endeavoring to create here."

"Right," he sucked in his bottom lip, placing his weight on both his palms at the edge of the table. "But how do you salvage enough of that flawed hero when billions of mistakes were made. When the garbage dump is overloaded? Can it be ignored then?"

After a low scoff, Gregory answered in disbelief. "You're self-deprecating. I've dealt with clients that had scandals, automatically making them perceived as irredeemable. For you though, _billions_ is an exaggeration, and if it weren't, the billion little ones worth any thought were already discussed between you and I. If there were anything else, we would have discovered them by now."

 

"Seven point one billion mistakes and you turn a blind eye?" The memories began to override his strength. It made Jim wish he were back on his chair. He took a risk and turned around. "Have we become so soulless?"

A dark, thick understanding resonated between them, the eerie quiet enhancing the sounds of their breathing. He watched Gregory lift his hand, momentarily pausing before wiping his mouth, whispering a low curse.

"You don't know what happened up there."

Gregory squinted as if re-evaluating Jim all over again, "I know you weren't Captain."

"It doesn't –" He clucked his tongue, seeing Gregory for who he was. Gregory was one of those that thought the catastrophe _made_ him. "That doesn't freakin' matter." It was what he told himself ever since.

 

He felt the loss before the SIM. There were times he wished to speak about it to Spock. With careful thought, he concluded that he never had the right. Spock would mourn with those he was comfortable with or alone. Spock didn't need Jim's consolation, and he was the worst person to aid in any type of healing.

Once Uhura informed him that the topic was off-bounds with her as well, he naturally deduced that any personal endeavor on his part would be futile.

Immediate rejection.

It was practically guaranteed.

Now, after years, he was faced with the same dilemma. With the extra confidence that came with the rising developments of their relationship, this topic remained a minefield, and it was smart to avoid it.

Through their melds in the SIM, they rested many nights on red sand, both of them avoiding all thoughts related to the invasion. This added experience was what made the loss heavier the second he opened his eyes in the SIM Med room.

 

"After analyzing my summary and scores, one thing became absolutely clear and it's that my mind took precedence." Jim brought up. "After conversing with another Captain, I was informed that like the maximum duration, I was entrusted with maximum control. My theory is that this was a tactic to shield my First Officer. Whether this was a direct order, or by the operatives own initiative, I didn't help him. Not one bit."

 

It wasn't self-deprecation. It was fact, and he should have warned Spock. He should have.

A part of him wondered if it would have made any difference. Still, this didn't excuse him.

 

"Never mind," He shook it off, not intending to go more in depth. He shouldn't have brought this up to a stranger anyways. "I'll just grab another cup of water, then we'll begin again. Hopefully this'll be the last."

 

Gregory was at a loss for words, and from what Jim observed so far, he could tell what a rarity that was.

**.**

**.**

**.**

"Oh, excuse me." An unknown human female did a quick bow after having accidentally bumped into Spock in the hectic airport security checkpoint.

He held tighter to his suitcase handle and nodded at the shorter woman, indicating that he was not injured nor bothered from the light impact. After the quick interaction, he saw her turn twice to stare back at him from the corner of his eye, before she walked away completely.

He was recognized, and this occurrence made him hyper aware of his surroundings, scanning all the faces in his vicinity soon after. Thirty percent of them were looking at him with a knowing gaze.

 

There were moments when Spock felt like a fugitive.

This was one of them.

 

Spock breathed in and stepped ahead once the line started to move again. The screens on the corners of each angle illuminated many colors, and Spock refused to look closely into them.

Instead, he distracted himself.

 _'Can't wait to see you',_ an older woman said into her communicator _'I know you miss me. Yes, you do. We both know you're incapable of feeding your own damn self. Did you burn down our home yet? Stupid."_

The common and informal tongue of interchanging insults and utilizing them as endearments was something Spock never understood as a cadet. The first time Nyota told him to 'shut up', she instantly covered her mouth with a palm, uttering apologies with a rambling explanation of illogical human methods of 'slang'.

It was uncharacteristic of her indeed. He then realized that it was solely uncharacteristic when she conversed with Spock and those of higher authority, and not with others, especially those she considered _friends_. Since he witnessed various social interactions within the Academy, thus proving her point further, he took it as a sign of her becoming more comfortable with him. Therefore, after careful evaluation, he found no offense.

Spock never thought of it again. The only humans that became close enough to deliver an insult of any kind never did. They did not dare to.

Granted, he was not deaf to the occasional whispers in the hallways. The criticism of his curriculum was not hidden from him, and none of those slurs were in the way Nyota described. They were blunt and non-explanatory.

As time passed, he learned more and more about this peculiar behavior - The tendency to be randomly rude straight to an individual's face for no apparent reason. It all began when acquainted to Jim and McCoy and needless to say, he learned more on both aspects.

He did not care to, but he did.

First, there was the blunt and non-explanatory rude:

 

  * _'You pesky, green blooded –'_


  * _'Ears burning?'_



 

And unlike Nyota, they never apologized for it. Spock admitted to himself that it caused an involuntary tic of some of his facial muscles whenever confronted by this.

Eventually, the insults morphed into the kinds Nyota explained to him.

 

  * _'Who the hell told you that you're allowed to get injured?! Congratulations. You've made my blood boil. Damn you, Vulcan.'_


  * _'We both know it's too late for you to go home. Stay. Nag me a little more.'_



 

The tics vanished.

 

Spock blinked away his thoughts, redirecting his attention to his current reality. The line moved forward again and he followed.

Once the conversation near him became more personal, Spock internally muted it to the best of his ability and looked at a nearby holoscreen instead.

The moment he noticed that it was Ms. Varra on the screen, Spock quickly looked away. In his opinion, he preferred Prime Time.   


Your Life Tonight was for a different brand of listeners and Spock recognized that he was not a part of that. Perhaps there was a schedule change.

 _'You should come by the shelter, Nina. I swear I don't know how to get through to those kids,_ ' said a human that appeared to be a male, adjusting his thin, rectangular glasses.

Spock had no intention of listening further, and he almost tuned it out … that was until he heard the word 'Starfleet'.

_'They threw away all their applications. Right – can you believe that? DJ too! Poor kid.'_

That was enough for him.

 

Spock had never been more thankful for being at the end of a security checkpoint then he was in that moment. He gave his suitcase and bag to the smiling officer and walked through the metal detector. The sound of it tickled his ear canals. It was more bothersome than harmful. The frequency of it was a tiny itch, one that could be detected by canines of the like, not humans.

After his items were returned to him, including his documentation, Spock located his gate and waited patiently for the boarding to begin.

He had twenty minutes to do some reading and purchase a beverage.

There was a less crowded café at the end of the circular waiting lounge. He hoped that their beverages were palatable to the tongue as he made his way inside. The menu on the wall behind the elongated counter was a black screen with rotating red text, each showing an extravagant name for each item and a description along side it.

Spock would have chosen something by now, except he was distracted by an Andorian male whom never removed his icy glare from Spock, his legs crossed under the table he was sitting in with a pen continuously tapping his thin lips.

 

There were moments when Spock felt like a fugitive.

This was one of them.

 

"Hello, there! I'm not one to generalize, but I have some new tea fusions that I think you'd be interested in." The bubbly employee said with a wide smile. It was a genuine warm one too. "I'm saying this because it's not on the menu yet, so – "

"You just did." 

She blinked at Spock, her smile faltering. "Sorry?"

"You said you were not one to generalize, and yet you did, making your former statement redundant by the one that immediately proceeded." Spock automatically opined in a monotonous voice.

"Apologies." She stepped back, forcing a smile on her rigid face.

It became clear to Spock that he somewhat hurt her feelings. She was only a teenager, seventeen at most. "It was an observation. I did not intend to be discourteous."

He could name so many people that would have rolled their eyes and reprimanded Spock if they were here, actively reminding him that he could sometimes come off as harsh.

"In my few experiences, other species tend to avoid coffee in general, especially Vulcans. Bad for business. It's why we're increasing the herbal menu. So I just assumed – "

"Accurate deduction. Please inform me of your most recent creations." He tried to mend the situation many would have deemed as awkward.

Spock felt a mental pull from the Andorian, who was still reluctant to waver his intimidating eyes elsewhere. Spock knew the pull was incapable of getting any stronger. It was an incredibly weak overall. Despite that, it was strong enough to catch his attention, and he could have done without it.

"Certainly!" Her genuine smile reemerging, "Well, I started to experiment with apples. It's really popular in Turkey – "

"I will have a medium."

Her eyes widened at the quick order. "You haven't even heard the rest."

"You appear to be confident in your product. That is sufficient enough for me."

She was hesitating to smile wider so that she would not appear strange. "Certainly. Umm, coming right up! Please wait at the end of the counter, sir."

The incessant staring from the Andorian began to press his nerves as Spock walked passed him.

Spock waited for his beverage.

"Ibibehr," The Andorian suddenly said. "And you, you're Mr. Spock."

"State your pressing inquires quickly, for I have places to be." As in he wished to find a vacant spot and read. Alone. Not entertain conversation.

"I have a sister. She's part of the graduating class – "

Spock was not disinterested, however he dealt with this enough at campus.

"And I figured that if anyone were to tell me the untreated truth of what is expected from THE SIMULATION program, then it would be a Vulcan. A Starfleet officer Vulcan. The most recognized one of them all."

"The ambassadors have already informed the cadets of those details and advised for them to withdraw at their earliest convenience."

"I am aware, Mr. Spock." Ibibehr interrupted as if he heard this a dozen times before, "My sister, she is stubborn and refuses to leave. She is believing this to be a challenge she can overcome."

"Then that is a quarrel between you two." He answered, blinking away the image of Andorian skeletons, bones falling off with each hour as they became brittle under the sun, still tied to their death posts. The dead would have preferred to be devoured by _kritkraws_.

"Mr. Spock …"

"This dilemma troubles you." Spock stated the obvious, "You may inform her that if there are any memories that are a source of despair, it is imperative that she make peace with them. If not, then the program will revive them, giving power to them ten times more, which I am not certain she will overcome in the end. Is she prepared to lose her telepathy? To be temporarily null of her integral senses?"

"She said so – " Ibibehr admitted, his antennas twitching at the very idea of it. 

"Then you must accept the situation. You have done all that you can, so prepare to be with her once she returns." Spock said, thinking of the call with his father. These individuals were given a choice he never had the chance to consider. "This is her sacrifice."

Although his father's intentions were of a non-heinous nature, his belief did not change. He still should have been made aware of what he was to face.

His personal decision would not have altered, yes. Nonetheless, it should have been _his_ sacrifice.

One that should not exist overall, but it was what they were presented with in the end.

"It is psychotic that she considers this invasive evaluation. She should return home instead." Ibibehr frowned as he said this, then he looked to Spock with a deepening frown. "But you did it."

The Andorian regretted his words, and Spock realized it was because he grimaced.

"She is under the impression that it is temporary, and all will return as promised. Am I to trust this?"

Before Spock had the opportunity to answer, his drink was presented to him.

Apparently, Spock halted any attempt at a 'thank you' because he noticed the contorted expression of the woman; all color vacant from her previously flushed cheeks. Her smile was more of an underlying grimace. This human could display various emotions with her smiles.

She looked ill, and it made Spock question her spontaneously altered persona and what could have happened in the last six minutes to cause it.

"Thank you." Spock said, now holding his beverage.

She continued to stare, eventually remembering herself. It resulted in her swift exit as if stunned by her actions.

Ibibehr continued to look to Spock as if he held all the answers. And Spock did give the best advice he could – the politically correct one.

He could not stick with it for long. "Should this be trusted, you ask. Mr. Ibibehr, my answer to you is 'no'."

**.**

**.**

**.**

Gregory switched off the light as he moved forward, presenting himself from behind the camera. The entirety of the video was done with only them in the room this time.

The camerawoman and Edmond never returned.

It was complete.

If Jim were not sitting, his knees would have surely buckled. He did it.

"You think this plan's going to work?" He asked, his doubt reigning in. He desired to hear those assurances again. "What if no one listens? What if they don't get it?"

"My father taught me many lessons in life, Mr. Kirk." Gregory took to his seat again and intertwined his fingers on his lap. "He taught me to never let a significant other sleep angry. He taught me that you're only as good as your last achievement, and this could apply to any failure. His lessons ring true to me 'till this day. Out of all of them, there is one I'll never underestimate."

"I hope you don't intend to leave me hanging, Mr. Dhar?"

They exchanged a smile, their postures relaxing a bit.

Gregory looked directly at Jim, "Never underestimate the power of the Domino effect."

The first piece would fall and it would be Jim.

He sighed, "Then let's watch the tower crumble."

There was no going back now.

**.**

**.**

**.**

It was getting late. Spock was meant to board in one minute. The screens flashed with the title 'Prime Time' in royal blues and diamond, announcing breaking news in the middle of their segment.

Spock knew something was odd, and he easily discovered exactly what it was.

Ms. Varra never anchored Prime Time. He must have been fully immersed in his readings to not notice this.

 

 

> _[It seems that the tables have turned. From this raw statement, who can continue to doubt? I have to say, this method was more strategic. Instead of using any official platform, guaranteeing attention to the matter, he created his own controlled environment, eliminating all the risks of what our queries would arise. He can arrive here or anywhere, tonight or tomorrow, but it won't abolish the fact that the ball is now in his court._
> 
> _I have to say, I'm envious.]_
> 
>  

_Gate D13 now boarding._

 

Spock was third in line. He wished there were more time to listen for clarification. He assumed the story was of something in the nature of that disgraceful CTO other networks mentioned before.

As soon as the doors opened, he entered the passenger boarding bridge, walking in the line in soft steps until he was directed to his seat.

The mini-screens in front of the each pair of seats showed Ms. Varra with the headline 'Viral Video' below her, the rest of the information scrolling across in mandarin, all of it mute.

A massage with a 'happy ending', the journalists dubbed it - It was derogatory beyond means. Unethical obligatory objectives to keep or gain a position were something he was now familiar with.

The passengers began to fill the small spaces in between the seats, some moving aside for the other to settle on the side. Spock placed his PADD and bag on his seat, then lifted his separate carry-on to insert it into the confined space above.

"Shit. Excuse me."

He heard another mumble right as he was again pushed to the side. First Class, and it still felt overly crowded to Spock.

"Godammit - I'm too clumsy at times."

Spock never turned to the voice, making sure his carry-on did not fall on the speaking individual and him.

"Umm… turns out this is my seat, dude."

The title was rude, and yet, it was a nostalgic one. It was then that Spock turned to the source of the words.

"Apparently, we're flying buddies." The younger man cheesed, inching to his window seat beside Spock.

 

Spock concluded that he was seeing a wraith of a methodically devised program feature long deleted.

A ghost.

 

"This airport makes me want to scratch my skin. Kai Tak is going to be so much worse, so I don't know why I'm complaining. Anyways - " The young man continued to complain anyways under his breath, fleetingly looking at Spock's ears, then darting his eyes away, releasing the day's tension from his body with an audible exhale.

Without uttering a word, Spock took to his seat, shut off the front screen and began to browse through his PADD. It was not long until he had to shut that off completely as well. The teenager had yet to complain about the blackness of their screen, looking through his own communicator, floating in his own thoughts.

The incoming call from Nyota was denied, deciding to text her that he boarded instead, uninterested in having a conversation amongst prying ears.

It was a wise decision too.

"Freakin' hell, you're Commander Spock!"

If Spock were human, he would have just let his face fall in his palms. He might have groaned, hissing out profanities. He did not wish to interact with the human, nor look at the human.

"Yes, I am." Spock replied, wishing the young man could keep his voice low.

"So, is it true?!"

"Your inquiry is a vague one, rendering me unable to answer with anything but inconclusive." He said to the person that could have been Karim if he lived past sixteen Terran years.

If he lived at all -

He had an overactive imagination, considering his mind had to work endlessly to create the world of his past life. This was a side effect. He was seeing more into something that should have been nothing.

It was the stranger's ethnicity, hence the shared physical features which were prominent in portions of the Arabian Peninsula. It was his horrid use of Standard. It was the vibrant blue denim clothing and red shoes.

It was nothing.

"C'mon! You know exactly what I'm talking about." The young man said in disbelief.

For some reason, he believed Spock to be deliberately deceiving him. Which was absurd, especially since he had no reason to.

"I mean, I thought it was all some fabricated shit – ya know? Yes, the whole SIM thing is all 'round weird. I mean, why would anyone want to hurt you guys? You guys save planets and discover new worlds." He continued with animated hand movements, "I mean, you all were so quiet about these so called side effects, so I didn't care much. The program's revised, ain't it? Personally, I don't know anyone in Starfleet. I don't see why I have to care more than you guys. But after what's happened, it's clearly insane. Like it's almost unbelievable!"

Spock stared at him with boggled eyes, attempting to decipher the wavy strings of comments that refused to assemble into a straight thought. Perhaps he could decipher some clue in one of those prominent freckles. He raised a brow, and apparently the other took it as his cue to elaborate.

"From your silence, I'm going to take it that it's true then."

"I will reiterate, I do not know – "

The young man's jaw dropped right before he started to scramble through his things, removing his earphones from his comm, leaning ahead to turn on their screen.

The channel was automatically set on the news with a foreign voice translating over a familiar one… Spock gulped, the PADD slipping from his fingers and onto his thighs.

 

The only times his heart has ever been this loud to his own ears were when Markus touched him and all he received was white noise, when the dancing flames threatened to overtake his body, when he settled into his room for the first night in Warehouse 15, when Jim touched his hand, when Jim almost died, when he trudged through the ashes of his people and when they were about to join them.

He never entertained the concept of an afterlife until then. If there was some form of happiness after all the devastation …

His heart pounded and pounded.

 

"That's _your_ Captain, dude."

 

The spaces started to close in on him, his sights solely aimed on the pair of blue irises looking ahead. Jim was sitting in a chair with a shining dark, rich wooden background. His legs were crossed, and he was speaking with confidence. Granted, there was the occasional pause, however they were always followed by clear-cut assertions, all backed by his own, credible experiences.

By their experience.

His Captain did the one thing he was advised to not do. Jim was never meant to tread through such dangerous territory, and yet he did, all alone.

Then again, Jim was not presented with a choice either. Spock was the one who made sure of that. Jim should have moved on. He should have forgotten.

 

Jim was trying to escape from this tight corner he was in and it was Spock's doing.

 

"Freakin' fuck, you never knew … this story's almost forty-five minutes old now."

 

In a way, Spock's expectations must have been too high.

Nonetheless, nothing prepared him for it. His right hand began to tremble and it took everything in him to not reach out to Jim's pixel formed face. If he were not being stared at, he might have done just that.

The screen automatically shut off, and the pilot's voice resonated on the walls, echoing the announcement of the plane's departure. Just as the plane attendants walked through the aisle, urging occupants to shut off all devices prior to beginning the instructional safety routine, Spock shot up from his seat.

Unfortunately, he dragged the young man's earphone with it. He immediately took it out, ignoring all the twenty-four pair of eyes on his person.

 

"Guess I just lost my plane buddy." The stranger said, appreciating his item's return. "Be careful out there, Commander."

Spock grabbed his carry-on, his bag, and did a quick nod of acknowledgment.

"Farewell."

He would have been ignorant for the remainder of this flight if not for the badgering of this man.

With much persistence, the door was opened for him, and Spock power walked down the boarding bridge. It was sixteen steps later that Spock took to running with his bag on his shoulder and his other hand holding the handle to his suitcase, the wheels gliding across the rug.

Once the second pair of doors slid open, Spock ran past his empty gate and was suddenly in the center of screens all around him, plastered with Jim's announcement.

Some of them were not on the same news channel, thus the recordings of the video chaotically meshing together, causing dizziness.

Instead, Spock took to ripping out his own earphones from his bag. He blocked out the noise by listening to a message he should have opened long ago. If he did prior to all of this, he would not be in this quandary.

> **_Hi, Spock. I was particularly careful of when to send this message. I didn't want you to receive it too early so that you could stop me. I didn't want you getting it too late either, so that you freeze in some unknown place after seeing my face on a holoscreen._ **
> 
> **_So, ummm - I plan to publicly speak of how these SIMs have and will affect Starfleet as a whole. I won't say much about my experience yet. Apparently, it'll be a slow and careful reveal. Granted, people will know it's yours too, but many will automatically assume that you've been unaffected or something of the like, which we both know you aren't. Keep in mind that I'll keep your name out as much as possible. That's your prerogative and yours alone, so don't worry about that._ **
> 
> **_No._ **
> 
> **_Worry. You have the right to worry. You should worry. Please stay away from these vultures, Spock._ **
> 
> **_You're probably thinking about a lot of things right now. I wish I could say that this is for us. Except we know that this is more than just you and I. I reflected on this a lot, and have realized that I can't leave for five years, knowing the mess that resides here and what awaits me, knowing that I could have been more useful._ **

There was an Orion woman that halted raking her black curls with her fingers to stare right at Spock as if he was a long lost relative. The pattern continued with more individuals that turned in his direction, threatening to actually present themselves.

 

There were moments when Spock felt like a fugitive.

This was one of them.

 

He shoved his way through the revolving doors, exiting the terminal, and was presented with Terran air. He breathed in, raising his hand high for the next available ride.

It was taking too long.

Would it be beneath him to force service from a taxi that was clearly intended for another person?

He was growing desperate enough.

> **_Have you been keeping up with what's going on in the Academy? Have you seen the officers that have received their grades? I heard of Lieutenant Grayensha. I don't know exactly what happened to her. I have to tell you Spock, Bones' fallen face was enough explanation._ **
> 
> **_You once told me you weren't close to the Vulcan cadets and the two officers … except I have to believe you talked with her at least. Ensign S'kuul's departure is common knowledge. Unless you've talked to him too …_ **
> 
> **_Did you know that the USS Xavier's next in line?_ **
> 
> **_It's just too much and someone has to stop it. Truth is, I think we all can. Everything has a beginning, so I guess it's me. Any longer, and there'll be no one left to save. People will listen._ **
> 
> **_This would be most successful with you beside me of course, except I know where you stand. Sad thing is, you decided against taking action not for yourself, but for me. I shouldn't be worth so much. The command team I know takes risks together.  
>  _**
> 
> **_The telepathically capable cadets are withdrawing from the Academy at alarming rates. The majority of the Vulcans in the Academy haven't withdrawn yet. I just thought that you would have …_ **
> 
> **_Shit. What am I saying? You know better than me._ **

Spock had to refrain from rewinding that part as he placed his items in the trunk of the hovercraft, sliding into the back seat soon after. He paused the message to utter Jim's address.

Whether Jim's home entrance automatically opened or not, he would make sure Jim opened it.

> **_There are a couple things I want to say. First, if you ever change your mind, there's an empty spot next to me, for you will have just as an effect, if not more with the Starfleet officers. With everyone._ **
> 
> **_Did I ever tell you that your words could move mountains, Spock? If not, then it's a crime that I haven't yet. You're probably calling me overly sentimental or more compromised, and I don't care._ **
> 
> **_By God, you could shift an entire tectonic plate. You are something to behold when you put your heart to it. And you said a proper leader wasn't required to have characteristics that steered towards theatrics. I can call bullshit now._ **
> 
> **_But anyways, I'm just a reckless man throwing all my chips on the table._ **

Spock swallowed when Jim's voice was interrupted by an incoming call. He answered, not surprised by who was on the other end of the line.

"McCoy."

_"Don't bother."_

"Is today an officially assigned day, in which Terran citizens simultaneously make the greatest possible effort to be purposefully vague to those they address?" He spat, his company forgotten.

McCoy ignored the sharp jibe, answering the way he would a patient in a psychotic state - Calm and nonthreatening. _"I meant I just came from Jim's place. We don't see him anywhere."_

"We?"

 _"M'Benga and I took the leisure of dropping by after the whole … well, you know."_ McCoy mentioned _. "He's not picking up his comm either. All I can tell you is that it's still on."_

What was Spock to do? Everything was changing all around him and there was nothing he could do. He was stuck, just like his mind.

 _"Wherever you are, just come to my place. We'll find out our next steps from there."_ McCoy added with a tired voice _. "Just … just keep your head low for now."_

The call ended and Spock announced the new designation to the driver. Surprisingly the driver never spoke, only humming in the affirmative.

Surely if the man were to begin some form of 'small-talk', a low grating voice would have emanated from the depths of his throat in response.

He only wanted to hear Jim. 

> **_Listen, there's no strings attached. You've made it very clear that things can't continue as is … except is it considered 'as is' if we never attempted to reach our true potential here?_ **
> 
> **_You're not obligated to answer that question._ **
> 
> **_Check on Bones for me, will you?_ **
> 
> **_He's probably having an aneurism somewhere._ **
> 
> **_And one more thing…_ **

Spock's comm buzzed, Nyota's name flashing on his screen.

**You're not coming, are you?**

**-NU**

It was rhetorical, an automatic understanding between them in a way that seemed frighteningly almost telepathic.

**#-##-#-##-#-##-#**

**Affirmative.**

**-S**

**#-##-#-##-#-##-#**

**Call me when you get more information.**

**-NU**

**#-##-#-##-#-##-#**

**Will do.  
**

**-S**

Spock resumed the message once more, memorizing each word, pause and stutter. By the end of it, his teeth never separated, his jaw firmly shut. The driver never inquired to his frozen posture and silence.

Not once.

> **_I don't hate you._ **
> 
> **_Eat all the chocolate in the world – anything, so you can forget those vile and horrific words. I truly wish I can say that wasn't me, but it would be a lie. I don't know what's 'me' anymore._ **
> 
> **_Am I a survivor?_ **
> 
> **_Am I a Captain?_ **
> 
> **_Am I your sun?_ **
> 
> **_I've done many things that I know aren't 'me' in that place, so I'm not sure how to define this living, breathing person._ **
> 
> **_I know – I know, I know you feel the same._ **

Through the rear view mirror, the driver's eyes landed on Spock for six seconds longer than what would be deemed acceptable. Spock waited ... and there was nothing. 

> **_More importantly, no matter how much hurt we inflict on each other, I could never hate you._ **

There were moments when Spock felt like a fugitive.

This was one of them. 

> _**Until next time.** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *still under desk. just now w/ a bottle of wine."  
> ~X


	56. TAKE ONE. TAKE FIVE. TAKE, WAIT - WHERE WERE WE?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Greetings to all -

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before I post my next chapter - here is Kirk's public announcement.
> 
> Warning: A hint of melodrama.  
> Song: Shockwave (Acoustic Version) by Suyano & Rivera
> 
> ~X

**TAKE ONE. TAKE FIVE. TAKE, WAIT - WHERE WERE WE?  
**

> Greetings to all -
> 
> This is Captain James T. Kirk of the USS Enterprise. I am speaking to you so that I may shed some much-needed light on an important matter that has naturally sparked some controversy within and outside of Starfleet.
> 
> There are those that might be aware of what I'm speaking of. There are also those that don't, or only know enough from headlines and rumors. But as I always say, there's no harm on further education.
> 
>  
> 
> Sixty-six years ago, those before us, and a few still here today have endeavored to abolish T **HE SIMULATION** program. In this, they have been successful. Unfortunately, Starfleet claims that current events have pulled their hands to bring upon its re-implementation.
> 
> With hundreds of reports that can be easily accessed from the time before late Admiral Jackson's death, and the sudden silence of this generation are now stirring confusion. As a result, there are further demands for the truth.
> 
> I'll lay it all out for you now so that there is no more speculation.
> 
>  
> 
> The objectives of the program are the same. It is to test our values, to test how susceptible we are to brainwashing, to test our judgments, our teamwork skills as well as our leadership skills. It forces us to face the answers to questions such as _'Are we capable of senseless murder?'_ or _'Will we sell out our fellow comrades to hostile individuals for our own or for something less?'_ and most definitely _'Are we capable of quickly and accurately evaluating situations in dangerous environments?'_
> 
> **The SIMULATION** dissects our psyche by inserting us into worlds of infinite diversity, constructed by remnants of our subconscious.
> 
>  
> 
> Does this include our fears? Yes, I'm afraid it does.
> 
> Does it include our dreams and fantasies? Yes, it does – even the ones you never knew existed.
> 
> With these factors plus the memory manipulation, the program is capable of evaluating more than a standard psychological evaluation ever will. After all, how can one lie if they are unaware that they are being tested?
> 
> I can't disagree that it reaches all objectives, however I do disagree with its methods.
> 
> In **The SIMULATION** , a new life is created for us.
> 
>  
> 
> It's an inhumane game.
> 
> It's a cheat.
> 
>  
> 
> Those that take it become nothing but rats trapped in a maze of its own creation, running and running until its end. That end can be one of three things. 
> 
> Conquer, failure or mercy.
> 
> The walls bring life to memories long healed or at long settled. They beat from our hauntings. With this fuel, it carelessly shoves us from one direction to the other, until a corner is shown, forcing us to move further again. A repeated cycle.
> 
> My five hundred and seventy-seven day SIM revived a memory; vividly reminding me of all the disastrous outcomes a community divided can easily create. I barely cared for the little awe inducing fascination in it because the wicked and depraved were too loud for me to notice anything else beyond a short period of time.
> 
>  
> 
> I wish I could say that this SIM world never occurred, that it was just a test, but it did. This other person existed, and he died. He slept, ate, created relationships, mourned and fought. He was hunted, just as this person speaking right now was hunted before.
> 
> He wasn't acknowledged by who he was, but of what he represented.
> 
> I won't forget that.
> 
>  
> 
> I'll add that in its echoes … for a few command teams, this is all undergone with the voice of another resonating beside you. Captains and First Officers are obligated to undergo this simultaneously in order to be given the privilege of continuing to work together. The potential for compatibility is evaluated for not just the ship, but for each other - A feature that never existed nor asked of us.
> 
>  
> 
> In essence, not only have we allowed this program's return, we've allowed it free rein with added harmful adjustments. Unnecessary adjustments, and unfortunately they were not the ones that we were promised. There is silence, yes, but not because there isn't a problem.
> 
> I will not question if these alterations or the lack of efforts to prevent harm were deliberate, however I will question as to why this is deemed appropriate.
> 
> Common fact - the mind is not meant to be juggled around with. Some will handle it better than others, except no one will complete this unscathed.
> 
> FAIL or PASS.
> 
>  
> 
> Tell me, is this what we've become?
> 
> Have we as a society become so numb and absorbed in our own disquietude in Starfleet, that we sit idle while others are fighting to still serve, to search for beyond the stars and to defend our homes?
> 
> Well, I refuse to be like a great number of Captains, a silent Captain that evaluates his transfers and discharged, all while ignoring the lives that have been ruined and could be ruined from this day forward. As a Captain, I have failed in taking proper action. I have failed by not heightening my awareness of the issue around me.
> 
>  
> 
> To my crew, I apologize to you - To all those that never confided in me.
> 
> All I can do is ease this unneeded luminous threat on your respect and your earned position by being the first to speak on this, unfiltered and out loud.
> 
> I'm choosing to say this now because after my SIM, I know. I truly know. This isn't some measly sympathy. Besides, I know it isn't too late.
> 
>  
> 
> There are two hundred and thirty officers without a grade on my ship alone. The crewmembers of the USS Xīwàng were the only ones to have completed their program thus far. As of right now, the USS Antigone has completed eighty percent of their evaluations.
> 
> Another ship is ready to begin theirs soon. Another month and it'll be another ship.
> 
>  
> 
> It'll be **you**.
> 
>  
> 
> If I knew of its extremity, I might have chosen a different path. Nevertheless, this is the path that has been chosen. Whatever you decide, at least you won't be caught by surprise. All I can do is give a proper warning so that the same mistake isn't repeated a thousand times over.
> 
> This is a warning that hasn't been given the chance of a single breath because of this code of silence. And in my experience, codes of silence only exist for one reason, and that is to enable leaders to abuse their power as they wreak fear and intimidation without consequence.
> 
>  
> 
> Adding to that, I want to make it excruciatingly clear … your side effects are not weaknesses or a symptom of an unworthy officer. Officers POST – SIM are meant to share their stories and hear those of their peers. It isn't _weak_ to care for one another.
> 
> No matter what chaos your SIM generated, don't believe that your mind is anything but beautiful. Remember, it was you that created those meaningful relationships. It was you that forged every inch of the positives. Ignore the term 'add-ons'. Speak of the friends you saved and those that saved you. Speak of what you've learned, and of what you can change now that you've returned.
> 
>  
> 
> Say it all.
> 
> It's yours.
> 
>  
> 
> Otherwise it'll be this cancer, silently waiting to metastasize in your system.
> 
>  
> 
> … And to all those that voted in this harrowing program, I ask you – have you confronted your demons yet? Do you have memories of people that we can refer to as 'add-ons' every time you mention them – reducing them to literally nothing?
> 
> If not, is it fair to ask us of the same?
> 
>  
> 
> ' _Do as I say, not as I do,'_ is not the encapsulating belief that any leadership should operate under.
> 
> Following blindly is the downfall to anything and everything. The key to prosperous structure begins when we follow those whom are deserving of respect and loyalty.
> 
>  
> 
> There is one last thing I'll address. Many have asked if we're some kind of _cult_.
> 
> The answer to that is ' _no_.'
> 
> Because last I checked, we are Starfleet.
> 
> And I have to believe we're better than this.
> 
> ... Kirk out.
> 
>  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Love me?


	57. POST SIM – PART TWENTY TWO

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More Spock POV!
> 
> Song: Take by ECHOS  
> Warning: Vulcans. 
> 
> ~X

  **POST SIM - PART TWENTY TWO **

 

 

> _Extra Extra read all about it … More like click the replay button over ninety million times._
> 
> _Welcome back to **Your Life Tonight.**_
> 
> _This is your darling, **Celine Varra**. _
> 
> _Public query – has someone **broken** their finger yet? These numbers can't be possible._
> 
> _C'mon. Send me a picture of your chipped digit. I'll broadcast it live!  
>  _
> 
>  
> 
> _I have to brag, think the Universe loves me because the one night I cover **Prime Time** , I get the best news ever! Apologies Marisol._
> 
> _It's only been five hours and Captain Kirk's **video** has shattered the world wide web. I can hear the cries from my panel. _
> 
>  
> 
> _The current question is, what are you going to do Starfleet? The cat is out of the bag. What the command team of the Enterprise has endured could be a one shot thing, but still – why? How could this have possibly occurred?_
> 
> _Answers are being demanded. Nothing else will be tolerated. Not even your silence._
> 
> _It's not like you can get rid of Captain James Kirk._
> 
>  
> 
> _No, no, no honey. That would be a bad move for optics, and optics is everything._
> 
> **_Optics_ ** _is the bible you worship._
> 
> **_Optics_ ** _is why you've brought **THE SIMULATION** back in the first place. You wanted to make us confident in you again. But here's the thing - we didn't ask you to hang your officers for treason before the court. _
> 
> _No, no, no. Don't put this on us. Don't put this on them either._
> 
> _Remember._
> 
> _**Optics**._
> 
> _Captain Kirk took the initiative to inform us and broadcast this abuse of power. By saying so, it's safe to say that **Commander Spock** might have identical thoughts. _
> 
>  
> 
> _Then again – where is he?_
> 
>  
> 
> _It's easy for Kirk to speak for the human race. For others though … this has been more delicate. Allegedly._
> 
>  
> 
> _The alleged negotiations between the Ambassadors and Starfleet officials have yet to come to a conclusion._
> 
> _By Ensign S'kuul's, a Vulcan officer's willing resignation, it causes one to question – do they **fear** the program? His body language screamed 'Red Alert' to me.  
>  _
> 
>  
> 
> _Vulcan ceases to exist, and we fail to recognize that among ourselves. We only speak of our lives and how it was saved. Billions weren't saved. **Tens of thousands** mourn. _
> 
> _But as I have said before, and many times over, we barely address this, because their loss is in the same thought of another loss that could have been our loss._
> 
> _You'd think that it was just Commander Spock that engulfed the SIM, but Captain Kirk sounded like he had a part in this as well. Did he say he was 'hunted'? And in order for James Kirk and Spock to serve together, they had to mingle their minds.  
>  _
> 
>  
> 
> _Think about that for a moment._
> 
> **_Disturbed_ ** _already?_
> 
> _I'm positively shaking in my **Louboutins**._

**.**

**.**

**.**

"The kid challenged Starfleet!" McCoy grimaced with a tone that showed that this was not the first time he expressed these beliefs for all in his vicinity to hear.

"Evidently." M'Benga responded, sitting near McCoy's table, watching his co-worker release his aggravation by trudging across the room with the energy of a depleted marathon runner.

"What parasite munched on his frontal lobe to actually come up with that?" McCoy was more directing his anger towards the immanent complications instead of Jim himself. "I knew it. It knew it."

Spock never batted an eye at the two doctors, and continued to stare at Jim taking a moment to breathe in. It was the perfect balance of speaking with aplomb whilst tailoring to the most vulnerable.

Jim was being relatable while simultaneously providing assurances to those that so desperately desired it.

He honed into Jim's public address three times. He memorized each sentence and tone in which it was spoken. Right now, he was listening to it again with the added commentary of those that were held in high regard by the Terran population.

Spock's name was among most of them.

 

Was he betrayed?

Negative.

 

Jim could not control where the attention was directed. Jim did as he promised and only spoke of himself. The logical assumption that Spock was affected was derived from the public.

 

Jim should have easily deduced it, hence his message.

 

**Worry.**

 

Again, was Spock betrayed?

Negative. It was not in him.

 

"He told the officers to practically ignore their appointments." McCoy uttered. "To actually outright defy orders."

"That is pretty daring, even for Kirk." M'Benga added, being the calm McCoy failed to be.

Spock disagreed with their thoughts. He was surprised to be the only one to have noticed. "That is merely your assumption."

"My assumption?" McCoy inquired in astonishment. "It's clear as day."

"He only spoke of what he would have done should he have received warning or a premonition to the future." Spock discerned. "Never once did he suggest such actions amongst his comrades."

McCoy slumped next to Spock, thighs carelessly spread and head resting on the cushion on the back. "I guess you're right if speaking in a literal sense.

 

"He is perverting the system." Spock informed, still wondering how to feel. At the airport, his intention of heading to Jim's house was a reflex. A pure impulse.

If there was a reason, he might have said that it was his yearning to know 'Why?', which was ridiculous. Jim said so to him in the audio message, leaving nothing for thought. So why was he going to Jim's? Why did he react as a magnet being pulled into that direction?

His intention wasn't to run back to Jim and place his emotions in those familiar hands. He didn't deserve them.

Just because those hands were wide open and willing to accept, Spock knew it would be the worst way to return. He meant what he said.

He could not provide the fuel to a hope that could shatter at any moment.

 

"The new crew for the Enterprise has yet to be finalized." Spock pointed out in the middle of his raging thoughts. "None of them will be until all SIMULATION testing has been conducted on every ship, four of which have not yet begun."

"We know the Xīwàng is complete. They're still pending transfers of course." M'Benga added. "The Antigone will be complete in three days tops since every operative available will be on task. I mean, they're a small crew. We're talking fifteen people. Xavier and Bradbury are next is line, if recent rosters prove unaltered."

"The rest of the Enterprise crew has received their appointments, Spock. We'll be finished in two and a half weeks," McCoy mentioned with a low groan. He was the epitome of exhaustion. "Out of all ships, we're the ones that'll be forced to set a big example. The Antigone might not matter as much, truthfully."

 

There were too many unpredictable variables to consider, and the most probable outcome did not work in their favor.

 

"There will be a significant backlog in upcoming missions if they act on Jim's underlying message." Spock declared anyways, imagining the most unlikely of scenarios.

This was not optimism, but an open mind. One that was cracked open.

 

"Normally, I would welcome all forms of cheerful disposition, but are we really going to ignore the consequences here?" McCoy shouted as he pointed to the holoscreen. "The SIMs are non-negotiable. As in, its position in making an officer equates to a freakin' graduation in the Academy. It's like becoming a doctor without spiting a tune of the Hippocratic oath."

"Officers aren't going to just give Starfleet the middle finger by ignoring their appointments. The disobedient could be served. Bad conduct could lead to discharge." And M'Benga shook at the idea.

Spock had to agree. It was inevitable that punishments would be sentenced to the first few. But what of the first dozen? The first fifty? The first hundred?

This is exactly what he wished to avoid. The level of uncertainty was transfixing. He was not one to gamble, especially with so much on the line.

 

"I don't know much about this stuff. I can foresee this though," McCoy patted his thighs as he stood up, switching his gaze between his two guests. "The next few moves are crucial. There are millions of eyes that'll tune into what we do. What the Enterprise does. If we don't, especially after the words of our own darn Captain, how can the others be convinced that this isn't career suicide?"

For a moment, McCoy twitched. Spock could see the doctor's expressions morphing into one that showed the profound disbelief in his own words. It was the face of someone who would hear absurdities from Jim's mouth and still follow with full faith.

Their hands were forced.

 

"We're going to need a miracle…" M'Benga sighed, already on his comm.

A beep from Spock's comm instantly halted their pondering, all eyes staring daggers at the device.

The same question floated in all their minds.

Was it Jim?

**If convenient, please arrive to campus.**

**Building 02.**

**-VG**

V'ek has either made her decision or she was on the verge of one. Regardless, his attendance was required - Perhaps his assistance as well.

"It seems that the full weight of this might not rest entirely on the Enterprise." Spock vocalized, standing up to make his exit.

"Right, and unicorns exist." McCoy said, wishing the supernatural creatures roamed among them regularly.

M'Benga then whispered, covering his comm with a palm. "What happened to your faith in humanity?"

"It faltered when this stupid test got shoved back in our faces." McCoy answered. "Can't blame me. Listen …" He paused momentarily. "I believe in Jim. I don't believe in everyone else. This isn't the same as a mission. The chains of events are too vulnerable. Too shifty. It's yearning to fall over the rails."

If Jim were present, he would have advised that it would be preferable to just 'ride the waves.'

"And where the hell are you going?" McCoy suddenly barked, moving himself away from M'Benga whom appeared to be busy. "You going to find Jim?"

Spock shook his head. "Negative."

McCoy squinted his eyes, stepping forward. "And why not? You're the only one that can find him before us."

"He'll have to return home one day." Spock said, slightly stunned at his own coldness. He should have been proud because he did what SIM Spock could not in that moment.

The roll to McCoy's eyes said it all. "Don't play obtuse."

"You are assuming that this alters things between Jim and I, McCoy." Spock would have scoffed if he could. Just because he wanted did not mean that he could. That was a child's mentality, and if he succumbed to it beforehand, they would not be here. "This changes nothing."

There was a low mutter of how Spock was impossible, and then McCoy spoke louder. "Well you're here, Spock. That's a heck of a lot of change to me." It was McCoy that agreed with him prior to this. It was McCoy that sympathized and refrained from antagonizing Spock for his actions.

"I will aid however I can. My presence is my promise. We will make certain Jim does not fail in this task, because his failure will be detrimental to his career. Was that not the exact reason for my intended departure?"

McCoy didn't appear impressed. "You know he's going to think you stayed to be beside him."

"And I will."

"Just not like that then."

Spock could not deny that there was possibility.  "No."

"Then _when_?!" McCoy then quickly raised his index finger as if to prevent himself from another outburst.

"The proper question is ' _if'_. This is more than us. He said so before."

"This is what you were trying to avoid, and Jim might believe this could work ... but we both know - God, the cruelty in that can't be lost on you."

It was not lost. It was a flashing neon arrow, looming over his very person, never faltering in its intimidating glow. "Then he should have let me go."

**.**

**.**

**.**

Prior to making his entrance to Professor Jong's main lecture hall, the defiant arguments and V'ek's vocal plea for silence caused Spock to stand still and listen behind the door. After further conversation with V'ek during his venture to this location, she failed to inform him that there would be others present.

So far, Spock heard six distinct voices, including V'ek.

Just as V'ek told him, there were enough that declared that they would remain with Starfleet. Honestly, he assumed they would withdraw. He assumed Jim's words would mean everything to everyone but them. These were cadets, not officers like him, V'ek and S'kuul.

They had options.

 

By facing this head on, Spock knew that there was no chance of evacuating. V'ek required assistance, and although Spock might have settled with working in the shadows whilst being with Nyota, he decided that such an endeavor would be insufficient. There was fame attached to his name, and it had to be utilized to its fullest potential. V'ek agreed, implying that a grander scale was needed - Something equivalent to Jim.

 

Instead of the wise decision of properly announcing his presence to the group, Spock took to a surprising entry, resulting in immediate silence in the lecture hall.

There were indeed six individuals.

There were also another eleven - the ones that never spoke during his eavesdropping.

 

Sixteen cadets were in front of him, some of the few standing behind their seats in the theater styled room, looking smaller and smaller as Spock gazed up. They were scattered, unorganized, all in groups.

These sixteen individuals were the Vulcan graduating class.

 

V'ek shifted her eyes away from them, and her rigid posture softened once they landed on Spock. She inched away from her podium, leaving the spot vacant for Spock while beginning a brief introduction of each individual.

In that moment, Spock felt irresponsible. He knew all their names, their evaluations, their intended tacks, except he was unaware of which one belonged to which. None of them were in his classes during the last two academic years he guest lectured in between duties and preparation for the mission.

Each of them tested out each time, thus deducing that they were all avoiding him. It was for the very reason he did not believe his father and V'ek's words.

 

Granted, it was not one-sided. Spock had not reached out to them as well.

Of course there were other matters of priority. He was on the Enterprise.

He intended to rectify his mistake once that was no longer the case, except all he cared for was seeing to Jim's health.

He had his duties, and then his SIM duties took over.

All in all, they were excuses.

 

In the depth of his guilt, he noticed something through the years, and it was something he never particularly cared for. Or that was what he tried to tell himself. Each of their faces served as a reminder of what he was deprived.

Unity.

For them, all trepidation in relation to integration was easily confided in the next Vulcan cadet.

Spock merely confided to a mirror.

 

"It seems that we have reached an impasse, Professor Spock." V'ek declared, the subtle tone of _'help me'_ lurking under.

Spock ripped his gaze from them and looked to V'ek.

Spock refrained from an introduction and clasped his hands behind his back. "All those in favor of obeying Ambassador Sarek's recommendation of removing themselves from Starfleet, please stand. Those already standing that disagree, sit down."

The coat draped over Spock's forearm hid the fist that tightened when three of them stood, and the two already standing remained still. Five cadets wished to leave.

The other thirty one point two-five percent have decided that to undergo the SIM program would be the heights of illogical.

"Abandoning Starfleet is far from logical." One spoke out. Her name was T'Muren, and she was sitting upright, a clear strain on her shoulders... "I have dedicated two years of my life to this institution – "

A male cadet, Steek almost scoffed in response – a scowl present on his thin, angular face. "Two years is fleeting compared to that of a human. We should forget we ever stepped foot in such a place. It is not as if we spent the full four years as the others."

"Regardless, I intend to remain, and I am prepared to do what is necessary." T'Muren continued as if she did not take Steek's words into account. There was a clear separation between the groups, with which they were the spokesperson of."Even an asinine duty as this." She muttered in a lower tone.

"That is precisely the point. This is not necessary. It is an insult. After what we have contributed to Starfleet, with the guarantee that we will continue to benefit it in exemplary levels in the near future, they deny us the common courtesy of respect to our ways. The Ambassador said so himself!"

Another near Steek agreed, nodding and humming in affirmation before speaking, "T'Ren has no intention of withdrawing because of ideals like yours, T'Muren. You must redact it so that others can see reason." Silo stated with crossed arms.

As Spock listened, he instantly knew that T'Ren was not one of those among them. She was a younger cadet. One that must have been important to Silo to specifically point it out.

"A difference of opinion does not simultaneously equate to losing reason."

Steek retorted immediately, his voice increasing in volume. "Reason. Common Sense. Logic. It has all become lost to you."

 

" _Kroykah_!"

 

Spock stopped breathing along with the rest of the room after V'ek's unexpected shout. Steek's words were the definition of disrespect. He glimpsed at V'ek, after being fully immersed in the debate … _argument,_ to notice V'ek's right eye twitch just in time.

Spock ordered that they all sit to spare V'ek. In the next second they all were. He trod behind the podium and placed both palms on each side of it.

It was ironic. Not one class included a Vulcan, and now he was staring at a class exclusively full of them.

"I sense something akin to … passion in regards to our current plight." All attention was directed to him, and Spock knew he had to make the most of it. This was his only chance. V'ek may be enough to spark debate within the Admiralty, but she was not enough for them. "Your contentions have been heard."

"Commander Spock." Another Vulcan asked for attention. He was the furthest in the back. Srelek breathed in before he spoke. "I am not aware of your experience as a cadet in the Academy, though I am aware that you did not attend the Vulcan Science Academy, or any high Vulcan institutes for the matter."

Spock waited still for Srelek to continue. Just like V'ek, there was no distastefulness, only the statement of fact.

"In VSA, we are amongst our own. In the Academy, we are not. In the beginning, I believed this to be an irrelevant and inevitable aspect of our future, one that would not and could not hinder my education. However, after the first thirty-two days within the Terran academic year, I have noticed how the human cadets actively avoid us. They whisper, either oblivious or feigning forgetfulness of our hearing range."

"They are well educated on our differences, such as our hearing range." Steek interjected. "They are never oblivious, thoroughly knowledgeable of their illogical sentiments. You, Srelek, are feigning ignorance to assume that all verbal attacks are not deliberate."

 

Spock listened closely, and although aggressive, there was a hint of hurt to Steek's words.

Unfortunately, a cadet next to T'Muren stood up. By sitting near T'Muren, Spock knew her position on the SIMULATION, and despite that, she was agreeing eagerly. "We have sought out solace within each other, except it is as if our gathering offends them – like we are a plague. This heightened level of sensitivity is unfathomable as I speak of it."

Srelek continued, "They use the term _cliques_ when referring to our tendency to flock together at will, as if they do not execute identical behavior themselves."

 

"Cliques." Spock tested out the word on his tongue. "It is a term to describe groups that share identical interests. And yet, you are implying that it is used as an aspersion."

 

"In a literal sense it is not meant to insult, however it does convey a more odious meaning. Another Standard term that has been altered by its common use. It is also a term to describe groups that behave in an elitist manner, refusing others to join. The humans believe that we act _superior_ to them."

"We do not _act_ superior. We simply are. Our differed curriculum is a direct cause of that. It is illogical to deny concrete fact." Steek interrupted, twirling his right wrist as if he owned the room. His group agreed to his blunt statement. It was fitting that he was on the Command track, but he had much, much to learn. "The fault does not resonate on us for their biological limitations. It is nature. Earthmen only further prove their illogical mindset by stating otherwise, entertaining the belief that we will be equal to them. I will not apologize for my lack of interest in this thing they call friendship, when I would rather be near my people, my family."

Steek was everything Spock avoided to be, and everything the humans originally thought of him. Also, Steek had a mindset that could have easily been Spock's should he have avoided education on social behavior. Spock did not have the luxury to ignore it and be with his own people.

In the end, Spock understood Steek's urge to be close to those he almost lost, to the few that were left.

 

"The _majority_ of us do not wish to display Steek's ideals to our classmates and future comrades, and officers at hand. We are to serve on the same ships in the future." T'Muren continued, "A rift in respectful relationships could stunt the full potential of a Starship crew."

Srelek raised his hand. "In point, Commander Spock, do you believe the resurrection of the SIMULATION to be a tactic to instill some sort of revenge for their inferiority? Does this behavior resonate with the Admirals? Is this an attempt to 'even out the playing field', as some humans would express."

 

If Spock were drinking a beverage, he might have spit it out.

 

"Our desire to remain as far away from this program as we can is not one of entitlement or special privilege. It will affect us differently – "

"You are suggesting that the installment of the program contains xenophobic undertones." Spock concluded to the group.

"Correct." They all answered in unison, including V'ek beside him.

 

They were not wrong.

 

"As beings of this universe, we all contain flaws. Humans and Vulcans are not exempt. Starfleet can and will improve, for there is always room for improvement." Spock pondered aloud. "A new plight has been brought to our attention, and the ambassadors diagnosed it. In an ideal setting, a solution would be the next step. Instead, all recommendations have been actively ignored. To state that there are no heinous intentions would be ignorant of me. It would be misleading to you."

He has witnessed it first hand after all. The admirals' only spoke of what successes the program has brought to them. To them, all those with telepathic characteristics were just casualties. If anything, they made it seem as if Spock should have been grateful for having his mind returned to the state it was prior to entering the SIM.

"So the only solution is to leave." V'ek sadly announced after thinking for fifteen seconds with her eyes closed.

Some of the cadets grimaced at the possibility.

"It is a solution, yes." Spock nodded.

"They do not want us." A cadet behind Steek whispered, still audible to Spock's ears. Steek agreed whole-heartedly. Rejection. It was apparent that this was where his attitude originated.

 

"But they do need us." V'ek responded anyways. "There is a difference."

Spock nodded. "They are taking us for granted. Therefore, it is our responsibility to remind them that our presence is properly revered."

 

"Do they take the humans for granted? By Captain Kirk's words, this is harming them at alarming levels. The officers may be silent, and yet, it is all the cadets speak of." Srelek announced.

"Their hurt cannot equate to what we will endure." Silo opined, motioning to all around him.

"The dorms whisper of cadets possibly ignoring their SIM appointments." Another chimed in. "Illogical beyond means."

"Rebellion." T'Muren tsked, as if the word was the root of all her agony.

 

Rebellion was a frightful thought for them, and once upon a time, it was for Spock.

"What the humans are willing to practice is not the reprehensible idea of insurrection." Spock said. "It is defiance."

 

This sparked a tumult of intertwined statements, blurring and blending alongside the other. V'ek's eyebrow peaked up, her frown deepening.

"Cease speaking!" Spock then ordered again. "I will only accept genuine responses. Everything you say will be heard. From hereon out, one will not speak over the other unless they wish to be dismissed."

They all raised their hands. Spock pointed to V'lor, a cadet on the Science track. She was the daughter of Swekte, fourth chairman of Vulcan Science Academy, son of Swegte, the current … former keeper of Kir Temple. He was one of the few on the Enterprise during Spock's impulsive rescue.

 

"Professor Spock," V'lor began, her lips curving ever so slightly when Steek and his 'group' glared daggers at her. "What I believe you are insinuating is that we join the humans in their _strike_ \- One that has been imposed by your Captain mere hours ago on a global range. Has this been your intention all along? To include us in this … lunacy?"

All pairs of eyes resonated on his person, and Spock held onto the podium tighter. "Negative." He hissed. "My Captain has committed the very thing I advised him to avoid. To challenge Starfleet was a proposition I thought absurd. The words of our ambassador have been disregarded; therefore Captain Kirk's actions would be in vain. It was my assumption that we would remove ourselves from the equation, and Captain Kirk would continue as is. It was the more logical and simpler of outcomes."

 

Spock was quickly interrupted by a far off voice. "Then this is all – "

 

With a raised hand, Spock hushed the cadet. "But I will inform you of this. My Captain was disgusted, and emotional when he returned to reality, fully realizing that I have been stripped of my abilities. Our SIM was one generated of death, fire and cataclysmic destruction. In our fabricated world, it just was. Not once did he place the blame of its state to me, and only thought of the loss of my ability."

 

It was clear by the mouths that opened and shut that they were skeptical. How could the Captain of the USS Enterprise not blame Spock when the fault was with him? Spock would answer that another day.

 

"Upon awakening, Captain Kirk never spoke of his hardships. He is ill himself, and he used his little energy to produce ideas of how to fight the cause. That is who he is, his essence. He thought of me, and he is thinking of the officers, the cadets – and yes, that is including you."

He was speaking to them as if he knew the answers to everything, when internally, he was just now realizing the extent of all he said. He should have said so to himself before. To think of leaving was an absurdity in himself.

Jim told him, and Spock refused to listen. When has that ever worked in his favor? What drug did he ingest to even assume that his suggestion would be taken at face value?

Did an entire reality of being Chief really contort his beliefs to assume that Jim would listen, thus abandoning his fundamentals?

"By my warning, he recognized that I am correct. This recklessness is him seeking all our aid in this challenging endeavor." Spock finished.

 

Silo raised his hand, speaking the moment Spock pointed to him. "It is not in us to rebel."

 

"A strike. A protest it is often called. Is it not within our rights to expose their wrongs? Are we not capable of showing that we are a force to be reckoned with?" Spock asked them all. "For logic to be acquired in hardship, the method of how we retrieve it is redundant if it is for the greater means."

"Brothers and sisters, " V'ek began, not appearing as surprised by Spock's aspersions as the other cadets. "Many of you expressed your concerns of how your peers perceive you. Is this not the prime opportunity to prove them incorrect in their assumptions?"

"And while that is done, we are only asking for concession of the most basic of rights. As Starfleet, as a Federation, they are to accommodate all. Our actions will be a forceful reminder that this is not how Starfleet should be. This is not the Starfleet you or I decided to join."

 

"A rebellion is not a negative endeavor. It is flexible, and right now, it is our uprising to resist the corrupted order." V'ek repeated. "This is a statement that we are Starfleet just as much as the next human. We can serve, without having our minds manipulated and scarred."

"We have faced our own losses. Immeasurable ones." Spock continued after V'ek. "Lieutenant Grayensha and I have endured the program." Spock then pointed to T'Muren. "You have decided to undergo the test as if the consequences of completing it will not resurface. I am here to inform you that they will. They will. Your decision is an admirable one but not wise."

T'Muren tilted her head, evaluating Spock with a scrutinizing stare. "Then by your words, I have no option but to believe that you regret your decision."

"There are many things I regret."

Steek dropped his jaw, standing up, looking to those around him then back at Spock. "We will have our records marred, Professor Spock. To think of how this will – "

Spock raised a brow. "Were you not wishing to withdraw regardless?"

"Affirmative, except –"

"Then what is there to lose?" Spock asked him.

" _You_ have nothing to lose!" Steek countered, thoroughly vexed. "You as well, Lieutenant. You have received PASSes. You are both crewmembers to ships that will be soon rid of this program! Forgive me, but from what I observe, you also have your health."

V'ek cleared her throat. "In that, you are mistaken. No amount of meditation will return me to what I once was." She clasped her hands behind her back and glared at the cadet.

Steek blinked twice, and Spock swore he heard a gulp. "But if we are to fail …"

"Then we all fail." Spock interjected, wishing to eliminate their reasonable doubts so that everyone in this room could see a positive. "We will leave, knowing that we have exhausted all our options." He said. "Simply put, if they do not comply, they do not deserve us. It will be a stain on their history."

"Us?" Another skeptically repeated.

"Yes, us." V'ek confirmed. "They do not deserve all of us should we fail."

 

V'iim, the youngest cadet out of all the sixteen cadets, moved away from her seat and walked down the steps in the middle. "I will do what is required of us." She announced to the front of the class, briefly looking at V'ek and Spock. She turned back to the group. "However, should we fail, no matter how many insults are directed my way by my people, by _Steek_ , I will take the obligatory test."

"Further explain your decision, especially since you have now heard our heed." Spock addressed V'iim, seeing her shoulders tense by his stern words. She was so small.

"Because for me, there is no other option."

V'ek took a step forward. "There are always options."

"To return home?"

"Correct." V'ek said.

 

And in that moment, the heaviness in the air became so thick, Spock wondered how he could still breathe it in without choking. The automatic answer V'ek provided was one that they all knew was not the correct one. Except, it was not incorrect either. It was the answer that reminded them of their purgatory.

 

"What home, Lady V'ek Grayensha? Your father's father said as such. There is no home. Not for us. We are rebuilding, and there is no doubt that New Vulcan will flourish, but the case remains. In the end, it will never be our home. It will be the home of our children and children's children. Never ours. Our sacred mountains are no more, our resources and ingredients are extinct, our stories and history deleted – its only hope of revival through rewritten scribes and oral transference."

Spock inched a bit closer to the right, closer to V'ek when she flinched. He was the only one to have noticed. "V'iim your sentiments are shared – " V'ek began.

 

"Are they?" V'iim inquired rhetorically.

 

Steek clucked his tongue in the most immature of gestures. "V'iim, there is no use in continuing to speak of what was destroyed – "

Others requested that she cease this tread of topic as well. Spock on the other hand wanted to listen. By his command, she continued without interruption.

 

"And that is why I must. We were not destroyed, Steek." V'iim breathed in, her cheeks puffing, accentuating her young features. "We were erased."

 

_["They made you think your mom was still alive… They made you think that your world was fine. They erased your history, Spock."]_

 

Spock spoke of this three times to his father. He spoke of this once very minimally to Nyota, only to reject further discussion with her. No one else had discussed this with him.

There was a time in which Spock could discern McCoy's temptation to speak of it, but it never occurred. Jim … Jim had not uttered a word until post SIM. Another might have thought they did not care, except it was a reflection of just how much they did.

They were being considerate to his emotions.

 

In Academy halls Spock has looked to each Vulcan cadet, wondering of their thoughts in regards to what has taken place. Now, being in a room filled with heightened emotions from the young and the mid-aged, freely expressing it all, was something Spock would have never believed.

Nyota was correct.

The silence was ruining them.

Eating them alive.

 

There was a sense of vulnerability, being that it was just them - their leaders and remaining caretakers absent from this.

 

"Our information was kept on isolated servers, impenetrable from other planets by our reluctance to share them. We never signed any trading agreements, thus making us unable to utilize and multiply the little resources that would have been elsewhere. How do we exceptionally lack involvement, when the involvement of our ancestors was what created this. Began this!" V'iim declared, pointing at the ground they were standing on.

"We spoke of nothing. We shared nothing! We were but an echo, and now we are an echo without rubble and debris to define us. There is a _vacant_ spot in space. There is a loss that other civilizations cannot begin to comprehend. In this loss, they say that it was the elimination of billions. Not the loss of sentient individuals with family names, wielders of immense knowledge and culture, members of tribes all formerly led by our thriving ancestors that brought upon planet altering innovations. The Federation knows of Surak, and yet are oblivious to the torture he endeared, the hardship of being cast out of his tribe, the logic he continued to share in spite of it. We have only three traditional meals programmed into the food-processing unit - _Three_ out of hundreds. The tales they have are few to none and the vaguest yet. And now it is has vanished.

"I will not be a name like Surak. I will not be a number of a long list of casualties. I want my face on as many ships as I can muster in my life. I want my face to be the one each planet leader and new Federation planet leaders see. I want to be on the council as Admiral. They will know our faces, our accomplishments and the strong species we are. So I will endure this program if I am faced with it, because I refuse to be erased and be forced to repeat this isolationistic behavior."

 

T'Muren sucked in her bottom lip, reflecting the emotions of the majority present. "V'iim - "

Spock made sure V'iim continued.

 

"And call it vanity all you wish, but I want my preferences and distastes acknowledged as a part of my characteristic, not my species." V'iim breathed out. "I want to be buried with more than the bare words already said a million times over above my corpse. I want to provide the very substance for those words. No longer will I simply be a survivor, but a survivor that has made her mark."

 

Jim has said something during his fourth treatment once. Spock recognized that the comment was meant in good nature and was mainly caused by his delirium. He said so, except Jim continued to apologize. After seven apologies in a span of two weeks, Spock said he forgave him so that he would cease all efforts of apologizing.

 

_["Unless any of them do something crazy, they'll continue to be seen as the cluster of new Vulcans. I get why they're always together, Spock. It's just, I heard that they can't even be told apart. I get it though. I do. I can barely let you and Bones go._

_Spock … look at me. It takes time. They'll learn to be more out there. We'll learn too. When I can walk straight, I'll get to know them all. Just right now, to me and everyone else - There's them, then there's you."]_

 

V'iim turned away from the audience, her eyes flickering with earnest determination. "Commander Spock, I aspire for my name to be uttered in the same manner in which they utter yours."

 

There was not a single sound of refutation.

**.**

**.**

**.**

> _In summary, this video could merely be the last attempt of a saddened man to appear as some hero, but do keep in mind, is he really **craving** this attention? He doesn't have to do it, because his name is in someone's mouth on this planet every second of the day._
> 
> _No one asked him to do this._
> 
>  
> 
> _He has a **ship**. _
> 
> _He has a **crew**._
> 
> _He has his **mission**. _
> 
> _He's **young**._
> 
>  
> 
> _And let's be honest here. He has the looks too._
> 
> _His future is gift-wrapped in **golden** covered sheets with a twenty-four carat **diamond** placed on the center of the **silver** threaded ribbon. _
> 
> _So why would he jeopardize it? Take that into consideration before you start **dragging** his name. _
> 
>  
> 
> _I eagerly anticipate what's to come next._
> 
> **_Big Sister_ ** _is hungry, and this just tastes like an entree._
> 
> _Sorry to say that I have an enormous appetite._
> 
> _USS Enterprise – Anybody? Provide me some much-needed sustenance?_
> 
> _Please?_


	58. POST SIM – PART TWENTY THREE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay!  
> Here is a quick filler chapter before I return back to the SIM madness.  
> Song: Trust In Me by Mr. FijiWiji
> 
> PS - I will get to all your comments as soon as I can,  
> Again, so sorry!
> 
>  
> 
> ~X

**POST SIM – PART TWENTY THREE  
**

 

**What on Earth are you doing?**

**\- GD  
**

How did he end up here? A reasonable person would have arranged a ride, except he seemed to have lost all reason as of late.

Instead of arranging a ride, he took it upon himself to arrive to one of the busiest places in society and at a time when he should have been hiding his face.

Jim was at the airport.

Awesome.

> **_CONNECTING CALL …_ **
> 
> **_CALL DISCONNECTED_ **
> 
> \- **Mother W**

After shutting off the radio, he settled further into the driver's seat of his hovercraft, inching the chair back and looking into the crowded terrain, taking thorough advantage of his tinted windows.

**You couldn't spend one day away?**

**We're still meant to go over what you can and cannot say.**

**\- GD  
**

**##=##=##=##=##=##=##=#**

**We did that already.**

**And are you stalking me?**

**\- JTK**

**##=##=##=##=##=##=##=#**

**I'm not stalking you. I'm in my hotel.**

**Lesson: There's never enough rehearsal.**

**\- GD  
**

**##=##=##=##=##=##=##=#**

**I'm not some star witness in a trial. The thugs don't want my head.**

**It's just one errand.**

**\- JTK**

**##=##=##=##=##=##=##=#**

**And you're stalking me vicariously.**

**That counts.**

**\- JTK**

**##=##=##=##=##=##=##=#**

**Every news outlet wants your head, and they have many common characteristics to those thugs you speak of - Aggressiveness and obsessive dedication being two. And one errand is an errand too much. This is delicate.**

**\- GD  
**

The beige suitcase stuck out in the middle of the hectic terminal exits. Jim sat upright, hitting the consul to open his door. He covered his face with his hoodie, casting a heavy shadow over his features.

> **_CONNECTING CALL …_ **
> 
> **_CALL CONNECTED_ **
> 
> \- **Mother W**

_"Well hello there."_

Jim saw her holding the comm, raking away the long wavy strands from her face with the widest smile he's ever seen. He wanted to run up to her and see it up close. He wanted to firmly hold her shoulders to make sure she wouldn't crumble, coating the pavement with ashes.

Her skinny jeans and grey sweater suited her nicely, her hair waving in the wind as she looked ahead.

"Hello." He said, trying to manage the unstable irrational relief. Seeing his mother's face on the video comm was not reassuring enough.

Winona turned around, failing to locate Jim. She had no idea how his hovercraft looked like or what he would be wearing today.

_"I'm having trouble finding my son. Help would be much appreciated. He has the brightest eyes and a smile that shouldn't exist in this depressing thing called adulthood. He actually said he'd pick me up, which is a blaring sign he lost his sanity. If it was up to me, he would be hiding from this fiasco he created."_

He suppressed a laugh, inviting the warmth of this sensation. "Some have called his actions commendable so far."

 _"Commendable my skinny ass."_ She covered some of the sunlight from entering her eyes by placing a palm above them, providing shade. " _I should slap you upside the head."_

"You'd just kiss me after."

_"Well you're lucky I was stuck on a plane, forcing me to think carefully, preventing you from being the victim to a severe emotional reaction."_

"But the venting will still ensue." Jim expected nothing less.

 _"Lecture."_ She corrected, a loud guffaw following, _"And no doubt about it."_

"Six o'clock." Jim said in order to direct her.

Winona turned to the right angle, squinting her eyes. The moment she spotted him, she began to walk in his direction.

Jim opened his trunk and waited impatiently.

She even rudely pushed an idly standing taller man to meet up with Jim faster. Once they were an arm's width apart, Jim didn't need to reach out to reassure himself if she was real. Instead, she took control of the opportunity herself and wrapped her arms around him, squeezing for dear life.

**.**

**.**

**.**

It was rather surprising that during their commute home, Winona refrained from mentioning anything SIM related, filling the silence by letting Jim know of everything from the remodeling to the new additions of the book collection Jim left behind. Hearing about his mother's abstinent dating life made Jim laugh, really sincerely laugh. Winona stated that she should have been married by now, considering that her sons weren't there to terrorize any potential husbands anymore.

"We did that for your own good." He weakly defended their actions.

"How can two boys know anything about love, and help me find it, if their most intense experiences were the ones they got from wanking off in their own rooms."

Jim blinked a few times, the inappropriate comment flying over his head and concentrating on the strange word. "Did you just say ' _wanking'_? Who even says that?"

"Oh, I didn't tell you about William. I adopted a few terms here and there." She snickered, automatically appearing like she lost a couple years. "I think I actually miss him."

"Oh, really? Must have been a memorable man."

She nodded, reminiscing with a sigh. "Aye, the nicest lad there was."

"Stop it." He urged, knowing full well that she was doing this on purpose.

Winona feigned obliviousness, "Stop what?" She said, moving her hands flamboyantly.

Briefly, and very briefly, Jim questioned why he invited her. "Talking like that!"

**.**

**.**

**.**

Once they were inside the small division, Jim was pulling Winona back, since she was adamant on running back out and tackling the unknown man in the black hovercraft. He almost missed the chance to grab her, momentarily stuck like a deer in the headlights from the flash.

"You said this was a private neighborhood!"

"It is, " He said with gritted teeth, swiftly moving around his mother to block the front of the door. "Sometimes they get through."

"Sometimes is too much." She rolled her shoulders, "I'm not tolerating any harassment. You think it's nothing right now, but trust me – it's best to treat this before it spreads. So I'm going to go out there, and iterate every law he's breaking and make him fear the idea of returning."

"Ma."

"James Tiberius Kirk!" She barked, covering her forehead with her shaking palm.

Jim gulped in response, but held to his spot.

The awkward exchange soon revealed that she would comply, taking a few steps back and picking up her suitcase. Her boots clicked as she made her way into the guest room, as if she visited it many times before.

Jim exhaled, extremely satisfied at the outcome. He wasn't in the mood to bail his mother out of jail, let alone read any articles related to the possible, catastrophic incident. He remembered Edmond's strict rules, such as never approaching the media. A smile could be just as harmful as an outright yell.

He couldn't have his mother go out there and have everything recorded. She was a vibrant spirit that could sometimes be interpreted as too aggressive.

 

At first, he assumed that this new behavior was some form of mental break, but in the recent years, he had a life-turning epiphany, realizing that this was never a sign of her finally cracking, but a return to her original personality. With a light bang, his mother closed the door behind her and came back, dusting off her palms. "So, you intend to feed me, or do I have to dig in the dispenser?"

This was the Winona Davis his father fell for.

**.**

**.**

**.**

**We will have to speak to Ms. Davis eventually.**

**\- GD  
**

**##=##=##=##=##=##=##=#**

**I won't even ask how you know.**

**\- JTK**

**##=##=##=##=##=##=##=#**

**Tomorrow?**

**\- GD  
**

**##=##=##=##=##=##=##=#**

**Fine. Stalker.**

**\- JTK**

It took two bites into their meal when Winona spit out the question. He expected something along the lines of –

_Why did you do it?_

_How long was your SIM?_

_What do you expect to happen after today?_

He didn't expect her to say …

"So," Winona put her fork down and intertwined her fingers on the breakfast table. She tilted her head and sighed. "I died, didn't I?"

The water in Jim's throat seemed to have boiled inside, 'cause it freakin' burned. "What?" He choked.

"It's okay." She provided a small, uncanny smile. "I get it. Was it a quick death? Or was it worse?"

"I … I don't know." He always assumed it was quick, most likely happening in the shower or while she read. If he wanted to be optimistic, he liked to think it happened in her sleep.

She squinted then, "What do you mean 'you don't know'? Did I just go out and never come back?"

"It doesn't work like that. The add-ons aren't supposed to be actual people."

She pondered on that, leaning back in her seat. "But you just said 'you don't know', which means I existed, Jim. So – "

"It wasn't that you never came back." He confessed. "I never saw you because I was the one that didn't." God, that was a horrible thing to say, especially without context. As Bones said, context was everything.

"So all of this – " She moved her hands to emphasis her presence in this surrounding. " - is your guilt complex."

"I'm _not_ guilty." Having more clarity wasn't guilt in Jim's eyes.

"I actually thought we were doing better." She whispered, moving her plate to the side. Jim's hammer moved away and located Winona, slamming down hard. She shook at his admission."I actually thought things could be okay."

"And they are." He shot his hand forward to capture one of her wrists. "Things are better for us. Why would I invite you otherwise?"

"But you _left_ me."

"I couldn't make it back to you. And I was certain that you were – "

"That I was dead." She interjected with a hiss.

"I couldn't travel far. I wasn't on some ship. I wasn't on a Starbase. I was _here_. Hovercrafts weren't safe. A few cars still worked, but none of them would have taken me anywhere. Long travel was impossible, because there were too many enemies in between." If the lights didn't get you, desperate people did. If not, then the extremists would get you, either converting you or absolving you of your deformed beliefs by fire.

She must have sensed that Jim genuinely tried - That he cared! "So what makes you so certain that I was gone."

"Because _billions_ were gone."

The realization dawned on her, and she took back her hand, her eyes widening. She mouthed off the word 'billions', mentally assessing if her conclusions had any merit. "I can't believe they shoved your mind with your First Officer. I can't believe you _allowed_ that?!"

Shit. She probably thought everything was Spock's fault. "Ma – "

"And not only that, it's not like you could've helped him either. Your mind's not full of jumping bunnies."

Jim winced, "I like to think I tried." He really, really did.

" _'My SIM revived a memory; vividly reminding me of all the disastrous outcomes a community divided can easily create_.'" She iterated from Jim's speech. "It was a vague thing to say, but I understood it. Your SIM wasn't just a disaster all around. It was filled with what I'll assume are Terran citizens killing each other!"

Jim didn't deny it, "Did you actually memorize what I said?"

"How could I not? I listened to it on repeat. Jim, you shouldn't have put yourself through something like this - especially something on an apocalyptic spectrum. We just… _you_ got over this. "

"And what was I supposed to do? Simply say that we'll take our SIM separately?"

"Hell yes!" She shouted, shutting her mouth immediately. She took a moment to calm herself. "I know you respect him. I know there's a certain… attachment since he was with you since the beginning of your career as Captain – "

"They would have separated us in the end, no matter the result, you know."

"Still, everything has an end. You should have acknowledged that. There's no one, no one worth having a messed up psyche over. He just lost his planet for God's sake." She reminded Jim, pressing into her own temples. "I can't even imagine."

Whatever she was incapable of imagining, Jim was prepared for it. "It was a unanimous decision that didn't require any deliberation."

"But did he know what he was getting into?" She shot up from the chair, blonde brows furrowing. "He didn't have to warn you of anything. You saw it, but did you sit down with him and tell him that you would be of absolutely no help?"

Jim has made many mistakes in his past. This one however, well he didn't exactly know how to feel about it. The other option wasn't one that could have been entertained. If Spock and him were going to separate, it would have to be with them trying their hardest to keep together. "… I know it was selfish."

"Oh my god." Her disappointment was clear as day. "You just thought it would work out in the end. Life's not a fairy tale. Sometimes, things don't turn out in your favor because you will it to, Jim. The Universe isn't some fiddle you can play!"

"I had to take the risk."

Suddenly, a chuckle escaped her as she stepped forward to get a closer look at her son, placing both palms on the edge of the table. "Here we are, talking about you and your part in this. Obviously you were okay with it all, except the fact that this all took place, that this entire predicament was given life, means that Commander Spock agreed. He _agreed_."

"He did."

"And as his Captain, he would never want to subject you to such a thing." She deduced, trying to wrap her mind around this complicated matter. "What did you say to him to make him think otherwise, Jim?"

He didn't cast some spell on Spock, "I didn't …" Truth was, Spock sat on Jim's couch and made it crystal clear that he would prefer demotion than a transfer. "I didn't say much of anything, really." He was speechless at the time.

It was as if Jim was speaking another language. She stuttered, unable to think of a response.

All Jim could do was watch her slump back down, and take a huge bite of her bow-tie pasta. "Ma – "

She immediately raised her index finger, commanding him to wait as she chewed with her eyes closed.

And so he did, watching her take bite after bite, leaving her cup of water unattended. Soon, he began to tap the table thinking his mother fully lost it.

Finally she spoke.

"I'll always worry for you." She said after clearing her throat. A gulp of water later, she continued, "Although I don't agree, you and the Commander are adults, capable of making your own decisions. Consensual adults. You don't need my relentless ranting. That's not why I'm here."

It wasn't like her to drop an opportunity for an argument.

"Thank you...?"

"Now onto other important matters, how're you doing?" She swiftly questioned, "Normally when I call for some progress, you're too busy to answer, or you're knocked out and your Dr. McCoy friend picks up. Speaking of that, I hope I get to put a face to the voice sooner rather than later. I could have searched it up, but I like the build-up. Makes life more interesting."

Winona was kicking down her opinions of Jim's actions with all her weight, burying it in humor. She was sincerely trying.

"Well, SIMs are starting again, so I'm not sure he'll be available much." He informed, thankful for the topic change. Regardless of the awkward conversation he had with his friend, he knew McCoy would run at the opportunity to see his mother. "But you'll see him. His absence speaks to how well I'm doing. My medications are reduced. I'm just happy I can shower myself and start running again. It's been like that for two and a half months now." Right as Jim said this, he groaned. The SIM time wasn't taken into consideration. "Three and a half actually."

"Your stupid jogs." She shook her head, snickering because she told him he could live without those for a short time when he complained. He wouldn't die because of it. "And Mr. Spock?" She raised a brow. "How is he doing after all of this? You said he's been opening up lately. I take it that he's slept in that room a few times if he looked over you?"

And like a circle, they came back to this spot. Jim inhaled, taking in his mother's features. He saw a woman that went through ups and downs. She was the definition of recuperation. He suppressed a sniff, pinching the bridge of his nose. He would give anything to look like that.

His message was the first and last attempt after uttering those hateful words. The silence from Spock was answer enough. Of course he didn't expect one immediately, but he did after he went public. Even if Jim tried another message, his computer probably wouldn't let him again.

Jim didn't trust himself to drive there as well. He couldn't bear his chest to be stabbed when the answer was clear enough.

He wasn't wanted.

"I don't know."

He didn't know, and the reminder of it ached beyond anything tolerable for a human. It hurt so much. His mother easily discerned it, and she held his wrists as an immediate reaction to exude comfort.

The bitterness, the hate, the cynicism and perpetual pessimism his mother went through took decades to get over. How she got here was beyond him.

Would it take decades before he could return to his original self again?

"I don't … I don't fucking know. After everything, we still got fucked in the end."

**.**

**.**

**.**

Winona cursed when Jim mentioned that his SIM was over a year, enclosing her fingers into fists, trying her hardest not to scream from the fact that he shouldn't have had to live another life. Literally.

Winona cursed when Jim explained the extremism and the terrorism, shivering when he talked about the burnings of aliens and sympathizers.

Winona cursed when Jim finally mentioned that Spock had zero telepathic abilities. It was so unfathomable, she froze.

Winona cursed when Jim talked about the death of Warehouse 15, never once mentioning that they were just add-ons.

Winona cursed when Jim informed her of Spock's grade – the compatibility transfer, and she gave Jim the mercy of not saying anything about how it was expected, because Jim couldn't hear that again, knowing full well that they both indeed passed – together.

They were compatible.

"Do you still believe in fate?" He warily asked, crossing his legs on one of the couches, sitting across from his mother.

"The idea of it was always very appealing." She shrugged, "That all our blissful moments were pre-planned. That it was meant to be. And in a way, it excuses our mistakes since fate means that the ink has already dried."

"You used to tell me that everything happened for a reason."

"I did." She said in a way that should have been far from regretful.

"You don't believe that anymore, do you."

She sucked in her lips, the sadness of it all wrapping her. She shifted in her seat, rubbing the tip of her nose with her finger.

He rested his head on the back cushion, taking a quick look at the ceiling. It didn't take long to understand her hesitation. "I never believed it myself either."

His mother's silent answer did little to tuck away the unexpected disappointment. He was firm in his beliefs … so why did some part of him want his mom to contradict it?

Jim cursed when Winona didn't.

**.**

**.**

**.**

They talked until the early morning. He was thankful that his mother decided to indulge in multiple cups of coffee instead of sleeping. Jim doubted that he would have slept if they ended their conversation early.

When the first chirp reached Jim's ears, he could feel his muscles loosening, just now realizing that they were tense the entire time. He had to eventually learn to stop this. An idiot could tell that this would be harmful in the long run.

Winona splayed herself on the couch, laying down with her knuckles caressing the floor, moving like a swing set. "I must have done something right."

Jim closely held his third cup, appreciating the warmth. "You've done plenty right."

She turned her head, resting it on one of her open palms. "There are times when I don't think so. This belief in the good, this optimism you have in society – I wonder if an inch of it came from me. It's so little, I bet all you could have done is stolen it."

"Technically, it's a learned behavior. It's not something that's etched in my chromosomes, so either way, it's from you."

"Guess I can't argue that." She hummed in a daze. "The thought of all those people, thinking that they'll have the right to question your experience and the authenticity of it makes me sick. You haven't mentioned Tarsus, but the world is buzzing about what you were referring to."

"Like you said, keeping them guessing makes it more interesting. It won't be long now …"

Don't put your eggs in one basket, Edmond said.

"You shouldn't be alone in this."

"I know what you're going to say – "

She talked anyways, "Honestly, Jim. For someone that didn't think twice about being in the SIM with you, I would think he'd be okay with this too."

"It's complicated."

"Right … the whole _'We're Vulcans. We're better. We keep to ourselves. We don't succumb to silly emotions'_ yadayada – "

"Now you're just bordering on cruel." Jim should've rolled his eyes after he heard her scoff.

"The world is cruel." She simply responded.

"Even in this cruel world, we still look for the best outcomes. It's not like Spock doesn't care." The notion that he had to defend Spock to anyone was weird, when it was normally the other way around.

"Him caring isn't the question. It's obvious that he cares, Jim. That's why this doesn't make any sense to me." Because by her logic, if Spock cared, he would be here.

"He gave me a way out." Jim clarified, "I was just the stubborn idiot that didn't take it and run. Not after everything we've been through." There. Right there was the moment he said more than he should have. And by looking into his mother's eyes, he continued without a care."...I wouldn't let him do that to us."

It's like Spock forgot who Jim was.

Winona's face flattened out, her smile falling by the force of gravity. She abandoned her position, standing erect in front of her couch.

Jim cast his gaze down, refusing to look into that knowing stare. He felt his tea swirling in the pits of his stomach.

Now, as he looked at his mother's bare feet, he felt her fingers trace the bottom of his chin.

Feeling the force of the digit, he followed it, showing little resistance.

Winona settled on one knee, scanning Jim's features. It was the stare of a hawk – one that locked onto its prey.

"He gave you a chance?" She questioned with a thin whisper. "He showed you a way out? You wouldn't let him do that to not you, but to both of you? To _us_?"

Jim wouldn't hide. There was nothing to hide or anything to be ashamed of. He wouldn't be the very thing, act as the very thing Spock didn't want them to be. Spock would have rather had nothing than this secretive relationship, hidden by concealed affection – all signs of those ashamed.

He wanted his mother to know, because in another reality, she already did.

"This thing. This thing that I have avoided my whole life has made its introduction, and I can't get rid of it. It comes with all these promises, but in the end, it has an agenda, destined to just take and take." Jim shut his eyes and exhaled, feeling the twitch of his mom's finger. "It's a colonizer, first showing friendly greetings, claiming that it'll smoothly merge with my life, when in actuality – "

"It wants to engulf you." She finished for him, empathetic to all of Jim's admissions.

"It's a lie."

She tsked, stretching her palm and caressing the right side of Jim's face, tightening her grasps.

Jim felt it, forcing him to move his head closer. His mom shook her head once, exhaling through her nose.

"It's not a lie. It just likes to be a bitch on occasion. You weren't going to be immune from it forever. In fact, I'm surprised you've lasted this long." She said as a matter of fact. Then her expression softened, "Listen, I apologize."

"Why?"

"Because I said you didn't help him. From what you've told me, he kept you functioning, so I'm going to assume it was both ways. Merged bad memories or not, it seems that neither of you could have done it alone."

It was a question that Jim thought about at least every few hours, "They say it's better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all."

She rested her forehead on Jim's, a smile forming on her face. "What a load of piss."

"It sucks." He groaned.

"I know, darling." She placed the kiss in his ruffled hair. "I know."

"Yea…"

"And if he doesn't respond to you soon, he'll get a proper spanking."

The image of Spock helping his mom set the table was replaced with just that. "Hell, that sounded so wrong." A hitched chuckle escaped him.

"It's your head that's in the gutter, boy."

**.**

**.**

**.**

**Again.**

**Not a stalker.**

**\- GD  
**

**##=##=##=##=##=##=##=#**

**Sure.**

**\- JTK  
**


	59. POST SIM – PART TWENTY FOUR

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been so long!  
> Hello SIM.  
> *cries again*
> 
> Song: Gravity by EDEN
> 
> Election Day & I'll be posting fanfic all day to forget it.
> 
> ~X
> 
> ~X

** POST SIM - PART TWENTY FOUR **

   

> _Did you see the same thing I did? One would expect the Commander and Captain to stand side by side, but it seems that they have decided to speak **separately**. Perhaps this is only temporary, for both of their agendas are similar. _
> 
> _Now onto this rising, **striking** star that could easily cut any man with her sharp eyebrow. Who is this woman, you ask?_
> 
> _Rewind the clip, losers!_
> 
> _Commander Spock said it himself. She is **Lieutenant V'ek Grayensha,** a recent Academy graduate and currently stationed on the USS Antigone. She has been an officer for a little over a year, and here she is, standing **beautifully** in front of us and making stern stipulations of the Admiralty next to Commander Spock._
> 
> _When the SIMULATION is concerned, all my words have been in relations to human concerns, not those of other Federation species. But as we have suspected, the telepathic and/or empathic species are facing their own issues, hence their recent withdrawals and designations. That cat escaped from the bag, and damn she **flew** up to the skies._
> 
> _I guess this is the prime time to **apologize** for my commentary in regards to your elitist attitudes. It seems I was wrong. I can admit to that._
> 
> _Now, Starfleet - Would you cut off my arm so that I could have the privilege to wear your golds, reds and blues?_
> 
> _Who are you to do that to them?_
> 
> _The citizens will gather around the dinner tables tonight, asking this as they eat their **apple pie**. _
> 
> _How **dare** you? _

**.**

**.**

**.**

**_Nine Hours Earlier …_ **

Jim was shuffling to make his mother a late breakfast, her favorite omelet. He did, surprised he didn't burn himself by the confusion of the interview he was watching on the holoscreen with a comm between his ear and shoulder. "Why'd you have to lie about such simple things? You're the one who says that lying causes more problems."

 _"Trust me, Mr. Kirk. It's not a lie."_ Gregory informed, sounding like he was getting into a hovercraft.

The calmness of that voice was enough for Jim to scoff, flipping the contents in the sizzling pan, "But you said that you had no part in my video."

_"No."_

Jim imagined Gregory speaking with a finger up, his accent thickening whenever challenged.

_"I said that your actions were of your own free will. We did not seek you out, and that everything you said was of your own prerogative."_

"But you're the one who told me how I could say what I wanted to say, and how to order it all. Otherwise I wouldn't have done it a _hundred_ times."

 _"But those were still your words."_ Gregory asserted, _"Piece of advice - Don't give more information than what is required of you. That is key. Answer everything, and answer nothing. … You're laughing. Why're you laughing?"_

The food was put on hold as Jim cackled by the familiarity of Gregory's tone and advice, being the declaration to omission, "You just … you remind me of someone."

_"I see."_

"No, you don't. You have no idea who I'm talking about." The young Dhar hasn't met Spock yet. God, he couldn't imagine that encounter.

 _"Caught me."_ A hint of mischievousness lurked in Gregory's admission.

"Anyways, people need to know that we're working together – that we're serious." He almost sounded like a clingy girlfriend. It wasn't as if he hasn't taken up that role before.

_"People have already begun to assume that my father and I endeavored to contact you after the release of the video. So yes, we'll be working together publicly pretty soon."_

Jim required specifics, for every word he said out there could bite him in the ass. "How soon?"

 _"That depends?"_ Gregory pondered, _"What time are you having lunch?"_

With a click of a button, Jim turned off the oven and leaned on the side, holding the comm properly for the first time that morning, stretching his neck. "You're going to find the most flashy open restaurant to catch as many eyes as possible, aren't you?"

_"Your deductive skills are exemplary, Mr. Kirk."_

"God damn – "

_"I look forward to meeting you and Ms. Davis."_

"Unbelievable." Jim hissed to himself as he slammed the device on the surface of the counter, sliding it away.

**.**

**.**

**.**

**Marisol:** You seem to have a gift, young Dhar. Were you the one who convinced Captain Kirk to go full fledged into aiding you goal for total SIM obliteration? Him, out of all people?

 **Gregory:** I didn't, but I can safely assume that there was no convincing needed. It's not a secret that the program is severely disliked. We're not talking about just the cadets. We're also talking about seasoned officers. Officers that suddenly have to prove themselves after giving their life to everything that is Starfleet.

 **Marisol:** Even Captain Kirk.

 **Gregory:** Is that such a surprise, Marisol?

 **Marisol:** Yes. I have to say it is.

 **Gregory:** For someone to fight for the greater good? Truly?

 **Marisol:** I'm not ashamed to say I'm a cynic. If this succeeds, this could just be more points for Captain Kirk.

 **Gregory:** Ulterior motives? He's doing this for what … political gain? That's what you're saying, correct?

 **Marisol:** That is exactly what I'm saying, yes.

 **Gregory:** I know people call him the hero, and I agree that he deserves the title for his previous actions, except now all he did was speak somewhat of his experience and try to help by leading through example. It's courageous, but I wouldn't go as far as to deem it heroic. I'll temporarily put my cynic attitudes aside for this one, because I admit, I am one at times, but I don't agree with you here.

 **Marisol:** And why not? The good Samaritan act is an old one – poorly executed mostly.

 **Gregory:** I don't have ulterior motives all the time, Marisol.

 **Marisol:** The greater good then, huh.

 **Gregory:** I know it takes a while to properly sink in. Trust me, I understand your sentiment. Apparently, there are still good people out there.

 **Marisol:** Of course. I like to think of myself as one of them.

 **Gregory:** You're the face of Prime Time.

 **Marisol:** And you're a Dhar.

 **Gregory:** Touché. Let us apply this logic to the young man then, shall we?

**.**

**.**

**.**

**Last day of walking around in black hoodies I guess.**

**\- JTK**

##=##=##=##=##=##=##=#

**Those never did you justice anyways.**

**\- GD**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**Marisol:** We have thousands of posts speaking solely of this strike. It's frightening how the sudden silence shattered. So many horrible stories.

 **Gregory:** It seems things have taken that turn, yes.

 **Marisol:** Oh, so you weren't expecting this from what Captain Kirk said? You weren't expecting people to just - 'tell Starfleet to toss off' - one anonymous user wrote, explaining their decision to refrain from everything SIM related.

 **Gregory:** If there are those that decided to interpret it as such, I can't say I'm surprised about that either, Marisol.

 **Marisol:** Gregory, let's not be blind to the fact that this was the Captain's goal.

 **Gregory:** All he did was inform the public of what to prepare for. As a Captain, it is engrained in the psyche to inform a crew to what exactly they're heading towards in every scenario. A Captain is the one whom makes the decisions to place their officers in the escape pods in the end after all. All Kirk did was his Captainly duty, which was to provide accurate warning. Those without grades should face their fate with all outcomes put on the table.

Also, Captain Kirk only did what Admiral Jackson did so many years ago. Just like her, Kirk reminded the officers that there was no shame in what their minds have conjured. It's not obligatory to be silent. One should take proper ownership in it, not tucking it away in shame, breaking them with each passing day.

 **Marisol:**  You have to admit that a portion of these must be dramatized to fuel the fire. Those who decided to confess their SIMs –

 **Gregory:** Confess? Confession indicates that there is something to hide. And as an obligatory method of screening for an officer, it shouldn't be some confession, but included in the most typical of conversations. Just as the scores of other tests were shared and scenarios of their 'Kobayashi Maru' expressed. This dramatization you speak of is the refusal to be vague.

By the previous silence of these SIMs, it indicated that there was some form of wariness in uttering the horror, to expose weakness when it shouldn't have been interpreted as such. This entire debacle means that these so called 'alterations' weren't what the Admirals promised to be. That, or they're picking and choosing, which is much, much worse. I believe we know that more than ever.

 **Marisol:**  Valid points, I'll say. Most without proof unfortunately, unless they release their SIM footage, which becomes private property of the SIM participants once completed. Reading these stories, and it does go on forever, it's alarming that Starfleet officers have such horrific things to say. But at the end of the day, this was mostly composed of what was already in their conscious. The announcement of the SIM was one received with much hope, however these are beginning to cause question as to why the severity - when as you said, they were promised otherwise.

 **Gregory:** You're knowledgeable of recent events. 

 **Marisol:** Ships falling down, terrorists, corruption. Yes, I'm unfortunately akin to all of it. But you do know that this is Starfleet's answer to correct it. This portion, however, is clearly a mistake -

 **Gregory:** And how did all the tragedies begin for Starfleet to consider making such a mistake?

 **Marisol:** There were a group of rogue officers -

 **Gregory:** All recruited by an Admiral. I know there are few hesitant in saying his name –

 **Marisol:** I can. Admiral Marcus isn't a reflection of all those that overlook Starfleet. Admiral Lui, along with Admiral Shorkirc have resolved the halted trade of latinum with Tellar Prime by settling the coup on Agora. Whenever you speak ill of these people, you are also including Admiral Archer, whose accomplishments I can iterate for the duration of my program.

 **Gregory:** Then by all means keep the SIM. I'm not here to speak ill of the Admirals, merely wondering as to why that when a mistake is discovered, that they're not moving quickly to fix it. Either eradicate the SIM or deny any mistake by submitting grades of their own. No matter your beliefs, it's clear that the officers' conditions aren't so … what is the American term … so 'far fetched', Ms. Vogul.

 **Marisol:** Well we will just have to see if they feel the same.

 **Gregory:** With time, they will do what is right.

.

.

.

The reflection staring back at Jim on the dressing room mirror was laughing at him. Edmond Dhar insisted that he wear civilian clothing. He insisted it so much, Jim had a suit delivered to him, which was stupid because he had his own.

**My measurements.**

**How?**

**\- JTK**

**##=##=##=##=##=##=##=#**

**Elementary, Mr. Kirk.**

**-ED**

Today was the start of many things.

One, he had the first stop of his 'press tour' as the Dhars called it. Unfortunately, the Dhars were 'go big or go home' type of men, hence Jim's presence in Prime Time, of course. Jim heard the anchor, Marisol Vogul, and Gregory bark at each other on the comm in the office prior to today. It seemed that they were familiar to the other, because people who just met never spoke so rashly like that.

Two, he noticed that Spock still hasn't replied to his message, and it was a message that took over a dozen tries and an agitated computer to complete.

And, oh yeah – Three, today was the day the SIM testing resumed. Two officers from the remaining batch of the Enterprise were included. McCoy told him that there would be another four from USS Antigone alone. All medical teams were on active duty and every appointed SIM operator.

Apparently, there were supposed to be six officers from the USS Antigone instead of four, but McCoy also informed him that a few SIM operators were removed from their positions, three facing consequences for breaking their contracts apparently.

So the operators weren't as numb as Jim originally assumed. He guessed that this would work to his advantage.

Naturally, this information was all spoken to him after some aggravated yelling. Bones understood, and a part of him suspected, he said … just not to this extent. Jim stole the opportunity and apologized for the secrecy near the end of their colorful conversation.

However, he didn't lie, falsely claiming that it was a mistake. He didn't regret it; otherwise he would have been in some far away room, locked from the outside by McCoy's order. A hyperbolic assumption, but it was somewhere along those lines.

 _'We're with you',_ McCoy said then.

Jim didn't ask of who exactly 'we' was. It could have been anyone. It could have been a slip of pronoun, meaning no one.

His finger slipped into the opening of his collar and stretched the material. He still had yet to wonder how a tyrian blazer and a black dress shirt made him more relatable. He was the most relatable person ever.

Gregory's light jibe then resurfaced in his mind, _'Not that relatable, farm boy.'_

A laugh escaped him, his eyes squinting, teeth flashing wide at his own reflection. He had to suck it in to prevent the guffaws that sure would have followed.

What did he get himself into?

It would be a question he would ask indefinitely. Hopefully away from the Sol System.

One knock, then two – Jim opened the door of his tiny room and was met with a placid, timid expression – one that belonged to Gregory Dhar.

He let Gregory in, and the first word out of Jim's mouth was 'No'. He knew by Gregory's whole demeanor that they were going to have this discussion again.

Edmond stated that to include the Federation specie officer and/or contact the Ambassador would be a null attempt. This also applied to Spock.

Gregory gave in, at first – except, it was short lived. The young Dhar was thinking of how they could win this, and to him, having the command team of the Enterprise together was the gold ticket to success.

To Gregory, Spock's history showed that he's not like the rest and that it would be reckless to avoid reaching out in general when there was a slither of chance.

Jim, on the other hand, demanded that Gregory seek another way because this was his condition.

Simply, Jim didn't give a single fuck.

"You have reached tremendous progress, but that doesn't change the fact that we haven't heard a word from Starfleet yet."

"They can't touch me." He confidently expressed. The Dhars and himself saw to it that Jim hasn't committed anything that would result in a disciplinary hearing.

Yet …

"Don't get overconfident on me, Mr. Kirk." Gregory pointed. "The response is increasing, yes. And people are sharing their stories – "

"You can read those without puking?" Jim inquired with a snide.

Gregory's shoulders slumped, briefly making him unworthy of the pristine outfit he was wearing. It didn't last long nonetheless. "It doesn't matter. Today is the first day back to the SIMs. Today, we see if these outcries have any merit."

"Spock isn't just some back-up plan." It was Spock that made it clear before, and his not replying enforced that more. "He's not obligated to – "

"But he is obligated to continue his duty."

"He doesn't have any duties at the moment, especially anything SIM related. I told you, they're all off it."

"Right. His duties also include guest lectures at the Academy, which he filed a temporary absence for the rest of the semester."

The sudden spit of knowledge was perplexing. Jim straightening his face immediately, "He's allowed to take a vacation."

"In China?" Gregory raised a brow, waiting for Jim to explain a proper explanation. "He was going to China, Mr. Kirk – A place in which he has no business and no residing family members."

Jim knew it in the depths of his heart that Spock would leave, but to hear it so bluntly caused him to pause. He was being watched.

"He's pending transfer with his passing grade." Gregory sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "He hasn't been assigned a ship, because he hasn't bothered sending out his file to any of those SIM listed suitable ships. All his duties. You haven't even written his recommendation."

The image of flipping all the furniture in his house for a bug was the blaring thought in Jim's mind.

"You're watching me." He hissed.

"He's pending transfer, and apparently there has barely been any contact between you two. So, Mr. Kirk – is he really going to transfer from his Enterprise or is he leaving?" The step Gregory took near Jim's vicinity was an intimidating one. "If I look into your terminal right now, will I see a resignation sitting there?"

The flinch was automatic as Jim stepped back. "Holy shit – "

"By the lack of progress in Spock's status, is it safe to assume that you do not want him to leave?"

Before Jim could respond, two strong palms clasped on each of his shoulders - He was forced to look directly into Gregory's color sucking orbs. "Something happened. Something was bound to. Five hundred plus days – it was inevitable. So, did you betray him, or did he betray you?"

"I – " All Jim could hear and see was Markus' hum of agreement upon the hinting of the Salvatus members' demise during the mission. It repeated on a closed loop.

"From your summary, you two weren't enemies – you two were partners – just like in this world. So why don't you two seems much like partners now? … It makes me wonder."

"Then wonder all you like. Wonder for eternity. Spock and I could be in better terms, yes – but it's nothing that can't be fixed." At least that's what he was trying to tell himself. With a swift movement, Jim moved the uninvited hands away from his person. "And I don't know what you're insinuating either, nor do I care much for it."

The atmosphere carried all their challenging auras. The clouds were then split apart by the sword that was Edmond's unannounced entry.

"Civil discussions over Mr. Spock, I presume?"

"Not anymore." Jim answered, shutting the entire thing down.

"Redundant argument nonetheless. The matter has been settled." Edmond declared, flipping is PADD upside.

It was a live video … no, it was a replay of a live-video as the scrolling words at the bottom said -

'Vulcan Starfleet Officials Join Strike.'

There was no one Jim deemed recognizable as the reporters and mics were directed to the corner of the heavy cluster of individuals. Every comment was blended in with the other, disarranged.

It took a few seconds, then Jim could spot a familiar shiny chunk of hair, then the rest of the sharp haircut became more apparent as an Orion female moved to the side.

There was a drop in his gut, causing him to physically sit down and watch Spock look towards a Vulcan female, one that McCoy mentioned to be Lieutenant V'ek.

In the muddled up words, she raised her hand – issuing for immediate silence.

Spock then pointed to one of the reporters.

 _"Restate your query, please."_ Spock asked her, his voice dulcet and nothing like what Jim heard when they last met.

God, Jim missed him.

_"In the recent events that have come to light, what are your opinions?"_

_"I ask that you further specify your inquiries."_ V'ek said for Spock, as if she's been in this position before – as if it was normal for her.

As if she belonged there.

 _"I'm speaking of Captain Kirk's statement. His video."_ The reporter then elaborated. _"Do you agree with his opinion when concerning the severity of the SIM? That it's a cheat."_

V'ek kept her charcoal eyes on the reporter, but her honey colored filled lips never parted. The question was meant for Spock after all.

The clicks of pictures, and the spontaneous shutters of illumination on Spock's face was something that made Jim wish he could just grab Spock's arm and run away – run and fly so far, no ship could reach them. Jim shook his head to be rid of the flashes as well.

Spock shifted his pupils away from the microphones and into the camera the video was coming from.

Jim held in a batch of air, stretching his lung, and refusing to let it out as he waited for a response. By the headline, it was obvious what Spock would say, but to hear the words meant the world to Jim.

So he clenched his fist, ignoring Gregory's wavering and analyzing eye, only caring for the man on the screen.

_"Indeed, I do."_

And the hammer that floated above Jim's essence inched further away, becoming less threatening. It wouldn't fall.

At least not now.

When the reporters then asked what specifically Spock agreed upon, him and V'ek answered in unison.

**_"Everything."_ **

He cursed under his breath, the collar of his suit choking him all the sudden.

"It seems that your First Officer has made the decision for all of us." Edmond's astonishment was obvious by his shaking voice, as the rest of the video continued to play – the roaring of questions reaching its peak as reaction of Spock's further pronouncements. "I thought I would be rotting in my grave before this ever came to play."

Gregory shook his palms, snapping his wrists. He then clapped his hands. "Five minutes until show-time and now we have to rehearse a new pitch. Marisol's probably doing flips as we speak."

"Mr. Kirk, you're going to have to listen carefully." Edmond started. "We're not strangers to last minute adjustments. Just listen, and we'll come out of this okay, preparing for the next day in a jiffy."

Jim blinked, looking at the two dragons, his actual attention still on the announcement Spock and V'ek werr making together. It was a fantastic tactic – honestly, it was. Spock believed his words to be worth nothing, or would be easily argued, for they weren't an accurate representation, but with V'ek by his side and those of the Vulcan cadets refusing to take their SIM, no one could challenge that Spock's experience was genuine and as real to him as to any Vulcan.

It was freakin' strategic.

Jim should have been ecstatic, except the underlying hurt of it all was a silent alarm. Regardless, he sucked in his breath and squared his shoulders. "Hit me with what you got."

Edmond sat next to Jim. "Remember what I said, Marisol doesn't hold strong ANTI-SIM sentiments, and she isn't as free thinking as Celine or Jacob."

"That crazy excuse of a man." Gregory muttered behind his father.

"Don't give her any chances." Edmond finished.

Jim would strive through this.

He would, because he wasn't alone anymore.

His palms promptly covered the guffaws that climbed up his parched throat, the shock of it all still reverberating in his veins. The back of his eyes burned, completely clueless to the Dhars observing his peculiar outburst.

He wanted to cry.

Why was he always wanting to cry?!

"Christ." Gregory groaned as he yanked open the door to scream to the packed hallway. "We need makeup!"

.

.

.

**It has been said to me that the indulgence of theatrical behavior is occasionally necessary for a leader.**

**\- S**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> S = Spock
> 
> GD = Gregory Dhar
> 
> ED = Edmond Dhar


	60. POST SIM – PART TWENTY FOUR (2)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy 60th Chapter To Me!!  
> Happy New Years!  
> Happy Sherlock Day!
> 
> You guys have no idea how fantastic it feels to delve back into this story. This hasn't been the best year for me. Not only did I get sick back to back - just two weeks after my last update, my grandmother lost her battle with cancer. 
> 
> She took care of my siblings and I when we had no one. She was enigmatic, scary at times too, the best hustler and always the brightest soul... and I won't ever see her again. 
> 
> All in all, I know 2016 has been shit in so many ways. My heart is with the many people that are dealing with these terrorist attacks across the globe, most recently Istanbul, Turkey. 
> 
> I hope this update can bring upon a little light in this symbolic renewal we tend to indulge in. There will be more to come.
> 
> LLAP ~
> 
> Song: Remains by Algiers (the current soundtrack to my life)  
> Warning: Smug Vulcans
> 
> ~X

** POST SIM - PART TWENTY FOUR (2) **

   

Spock could have submitted this without his attendance. He could have excluded his name. He could have simply clicked a button and moved on with his plans.

He could have taken over the world behind a terminal while working alongside V'ek to do this, therefore still operating from behind the scenes.

However, after witnessing what his people went through and also witnessing Jim's actions, he could not walk away satisfied that he has been righteous in his decision, especially when everything around him was a blaring indicator of his cowardice.

Everything he assumed was incorrect.

 

All his previous rebellious actions were a result of some human-like derived impulse. Once he began, he followed through of course, but there was always one moment in which he asked himself why he would say or do such a thing.

In front of the Vulcan Science Academy Council, he ticked. He regretted it instantly, except the idea of turning back was preposterous, for it would have made him appear just as weak as they have described him. He came to peace with his statements eventually.

It was not long before he became truly satisfied with giving them a piece of their own medicine, dedicated to being everything they desired to have in their grasp, hence everything they did not deserve to have.

 

With each step down the hallways, and every troubled stare directed towards him, he acknowledged that what he was currently doing was on the other end of that spectrum. This was a deliberate decision with over a day of deliberation. This was an action of which there was no turning back, and he knew it. This was not nearly identical to chasing down a terrorist eugenic across the city. There was no impulse to blame this time.

 

But originally thinking that this would be the first, Spock had to immediately remind himself that it was not. He has done this before. Calculated rebellion.

It may have been in the SIM, but it was him regardless. In that, he felt no regret as the doors automatically swayed open, hearing the astonished demands that he could not enter being yapped all around him. He felt no regret when V'ek opined that these mere humans did not have the strength to stop them, causing the security officers to freeze still.

They would not draw their weapons.

Realistically, everyone knew that that they were not a threat of any kind.

He felt no regret when their entrance quieted all the hushed words in the conference room, each Admiral turning to face them with adamant surprise.

"Greetings."

 

No regrets.

 

He swore that he would never be in the presence of such vile individuals again. He swore that he would have been light-years away by now. Instead, here he returned, using his PADD to swiftly send his carefully composed documents to the five devices in the room and the enlarged screen before them all.

With the final beep, Komack placed both hands on the table and stood up, pushing his seat back fiercely - "What is the meaning of this?"

V'ek clasped her hands and stood next to the door, her unfazed posture indicating that their queries were not worth answering. At least until they said all they had to say.

"If not clear by the title above, what we have here are a list of demands that I am certain have been brought to your attention during the negotiations with our ambassador. This is more a an official medium." He answered. "Duplicate files have also been sent to Admiral Zhalaar Rug, Admiral Hesh Teg, Admiral Bahl Th'zaannihr – "

He named the rest of the Federation Council as Komack turned to Lui with both eyebrows shot up, taking the statement as a joke, "Your Ambassador should have already informed you of our response – "

"He has. I thank you for the reminder." Spock said, waving his hand up to roll past the list on the main projection as he walked past Komack's black atmosphere, not looking behind him, but turning straight ahead. "Which is why I have provided a small incentive. "

The quickly hushed chuckle that came from Archer was a breathtaking one. "I see that."

Lui's gasp was the most prominent. "This is absurd!"

"These complaints are under Article 930." Cartwright pointed out as if stunned. "Are you actually implying that our decisions are motivated by bias? That this is an act of discrimination?"

"The irony is ridiculous – " Nensi waved his hand in dismissal. "These penalties will never happen if we don't concede."

Even so - the point was to gradually and yet firmly place pressure until they crumble from their own volition.

"Xenophobia basically. That's your new angle?" Komack huffed, shaking his head as if what was before him wasn't worth considering, when it was something that would darken his approval ratings - or end his career - That was if Spock was being optimistic, of course.

"You're not serious with this."

"This complaint's normally used for ignorant first year cadets that do stupid stuff like drunkenly asking Orion cadets to strip." Lui spat, "You have no basis here unless you're all claiming to be emotionally compromised POST – SIM."

Spock shrugged, feeling vindicated by their sheer horror, "Whether to strip one of their clothes or demanding that one be stripped of their abilities, the motive is identical. It is a power play – a method instilled to your view of superiority."

"I can't believe this," Nensi scoffed, sliding his PADD away as if the device offended him, "The SIM is not _harassment_. We're not picking out the Vulcans or any other species for that matter. Even you can see the improvements we are providing to Starfleet."

Spock wanted to shake his head. "Your actions do not reflect your intentions," The obvious lack of faith was self- explanatory, therefore he refrained from addressing the dropped jaws around him. "It is you that are defying Vulcan Law, and ignoring what we uphold sacred." He further informed, "Claim it whichever way you will, it can be simply rectified. The volume of the issue is in your hands."

Nensi intertwined his feeble fingers, leaning back in his seat, "And how do you suppose we do that, Commander Spock?"

"It is a shame that you are unable to read the list stated above. I can send an enlarged one if you would prefer – "

Spock could hear the whispered curses. Komack, on the other hand, did not conceal his distaste of the confrontation.

"You. Disrespectful. Smarta – "

"Smartass?" Spock cut him off with a raised brow, "Ah. A derogatory reference directed towards my superior intellect. Could this be a sign of envy?"

"Don't act like you're better when you're also delving into insults." Komack opined, his disgust radiating through his prominent pores.

"Not an insult, but a statement of our biological differences, many of which you must be reminded of, since you appear to believe all officers are physiologically identical. The differences are vast, so no longer will this be a complication since I have included those in your documents as well." Spock said in a neutral tone, holding every intention to be insulting despite concealing the insult. "There are also useful illustrations that the cadets utilize in their research - "

"These are diagrams of the human, the Vulcan, the Andorian and the Betazoid encephalon." Lui cut him off in a tone as if confused by what she was seeing. "And your reason for including this is …?"

"There are also tables of contents which direct each color, identifying each portion of the brain and of its intended purpose." Spock added, feeling V'ek's satisfaction on his right. "It is all but a simple reminder."

Archer covered his mouth, not uttering a word, but appearing as if the world was lifted off his shoulders. Spock suspected it before, but he knew for certain that this man was not in favor of the SIM. In the midst of his own anger, drowning with his self-deprecating hate, he could not care for Admiral Archer's possible opinion, for he saw him as equally evil during his POST - SIM interview.

He might have been wrong to think that … but only very slightly.

It was a slowly dwindling opinion. 

"You are going above an beyond to insult us." Cartwright pinched the bridge of his nose, hiding the mole under his big thumb. "This is common knowledge. Your 'reminder' is not needed."

"Since it is not required, as you say – then define the black colored portions on the diagrams." Spock said in a way to leave no room for rebuttals, but automatic accordance to his command.

Cartwright heavily sighed, looked around his group, then gave in. "These are the portions that are dormant, tampered with and are no longer functioning once placed within a SIM." He answered with gritted teeth.

"It's safe to say they aren't black now." Komack hissed, repeating that same thing from when Spock was seated near them after his POST – SIM interview

'You're fine now', they all said. Spock abhorred the sentiment.

"And inconsiderate, thoughtless statements like those are why I have submitted an Article 930 complaint. I will remind you that the human psyche is not the base reference that should be utilized to examine all of its infinite forms in the universe. Spock huffed, "Humans, ladies and gentlemen, are not the center of the universe."

"Commander Spock, " Lui began.

"My presence here is to transfer these files of which you are now hereby obligated to answer each inquiry." Spock interjected, "All should be of a customized nature when submitted to each party included– "

"There are sixty one!" Cartwright blurted out, his nostrils flaring.

"Fifty-eight are written from the Vulcan cadets, including the graduation class." Spock clarified, looking around the elongated glass table, blinking away from Cartwright's exuding nervousness. "The others – "

"Belong to you and … Lieutenant Grayensha," Archer finished, his lips pursed as if impressed - An interest that was immediately hidden before the others could notice. "And the last?"

But Spock noticed, and he made a mental reminder to research further into this. Why this Admiral was acting as an entertained spectator, was a query he would soon answer.

V'ek merely tilted her head when they darted their glares to her. "And the final submission is curtesy of former Ensign S'kuul."

 

S'kuul was a complicated man indeed. He expressed how he would never take back his decision, however if things turned in their favor, he would consider returning. The Ensign's complaint included periods of 'feeling pushed out.' He only agreed to do so once he received confident assertions and updated events from V'ek herself. As the first two Vulcans in the Starfleet Academy during Spock's time on the Enterprise, her words meant more than Spock's. There was no ill intent.

 

"I look forward to your admissions," V'ek continued to speak, causing shivers from the Admirals in front of her. "All inquiries will be of public record, of course."

"Don't get your hopes up, sweetheart." Komack took a few steps away from his seat and began to invade the Lieutenant's space, "There won't be any. You forget that although it was our votes, we were still backed by council."

"Not all." She retorted. "You also fail to acknowledge that this proposal was forged through a ridiculous string and that it will surely meet its demise. The Federation will expand. More species will be made known to us. Not all will be agreeable to THE SIMULATIONS. Not all can endure it. Not to mention that it is uninviting in ever way."

Komack cocked his head up, "Then they will adapt. These are our rules and it is our objective to protect millions of lives!"

"The SIM is not the end all, be all, Admiral." V'ek raised a brow; a gesture demanding that he should not tread further. "If this continues, we will settle with nothing but the most severe of consequences. And do not rely on our lack of emotion for we will display whichever ones necessary to result in a favorable conclusion."

In essence, they would claim emotional compromise. They essential had already done so. It was the truth and they had nothing more to hide. All agreed, including Spock.

The elders … well, they would have to just settle.

Sarek would have to settle.

"You see Admiral, whichever way this ends, it will be recorded in history that we attempted to compromise with you." V'ek gave Komack a once over and met his laser glare with one of her own, "You cannot shove us away like this is some secret negotiation. You cannot deny this. All your arguments will be made tangible, easily recoverable, recorded and analyzed." She then took a step forward, showing that it was now her taking ownership of the small space. "You. Will. Be. Abhorred."

"It would greatly benefit you to cease your denial and accept the situation you have buried yourselves in. You cannot challenge us." Spock informed them all, but directed his words to Komack most of all. "At least not out in the open. Your logic is one that many disapprove of."

The bubble these admirals trapped themselves in was not a reflection of the chaos that was slowly brewing out in the open. Spock knew it. V'ek knew it.

And hopefully the others in this room weren't so blind and deaf and took five minutes out of their day to acknowledge it too.

"Also, we have nothing to lose." V'ek completed Spock's statement in a complacent manner.

"Now, I will grant you time to deliberate on your decision, a foreign concept I am sure, since it is a luxury you have denied every non-human officer." Spock was exceeding his limit at this point - "In the mean time, we will remain in Starfleet. We will take our exams and benefit Starfleet as we always have. However, you will not receive a single SIM grade from us until you have reached your decision."

"You are outright defying orders and promoting anarchy." Lui twitched, "All of you think you're special, like you don't have to make sacrifices – "

"Until I have received your grade, I will believe that you know nothing of sacrifice," Spock interrupted her outburst of poison, "Therefore you do not have the right to lecture Lieutenant Grayensha and I about it."

V'ek nodded in agreement, "Commander Spock, I believe we should take our leave. Our objective has been fulfilled."

"Agreed." Spock answered her, walking away from the fading projection, and closer to the door in steady steps, "It is a shame that there is a cluster of media personnel surrounding my hovercraft – " He knew that there was ample time for them to recognize it. He parked it in an isolated section so that it would be.

"Most unfortunate, indeed."

"What do you propose we should do about it?" He inquired, enjoying the shock he mustered through his taunt. It was clean air to his lungs.

"I would encourage you to avoid them, except that is rather rude." V'ek caught on to Spock's intention, latching onto it with great satisfaction – all illogical.

"Perhaps we should greet them." He feigned obliviousness to their husked expletives and groans. "It is the respectful thing to do."

"I concur." V'ek nodded, turning to the side so Spock could stand beside her.

Spock saw Archer's aging face lighten up with a smile that immediately dissipated when Cartwright glared at the Admiral.

"Perhaps we should answer their inquiries as well." Spock suggested, momentarily distracting them from their glares towards Archer. "A mere suggestion."

V'ek hummed, "A most logical suggestion, for we should put their concerns to rest."

Nensi pointed to Spock, his furry eyebrows in a tense line, all wrinkles deepening like the crevices could go on for an infinite distance, into the commonly spoken of dimension human called Hell - "After what your Captain did, you should know better than to feed into this frenzy. Those roaches with cameras are making all those people degrade what we stand for."

And was that not the height of narcissism?

"You once again misconstrue, Admiral. They are not insulting what we stand for." Spock clarified, "They are insulting all of you."

"And _you_ are not what we stand for." V'ek added, emphasizing the fact that they should all settle their ego, "Live long and prosper."

Those very words made Spock turn his head to the side, hearing something he knew was a mutated version of their most sacred philosophy.

V'ek and Spock stepped out of the enlarged room, striding through the clouds of thick waves of anger, astonishment and overwhelming anxiety.

Then they were presented with the same security officers outside, staring to them as if they were not one of them, officers in arms. Spock knew these four people dressed in red saw him and V'ek as something different.

Something threatening.

What happened to unity?

"You did not mean that." Spock exposed her as they turned towards an empty hallway before they stopped before a turbo lift.

"I did." She simply responded, looking ahead with a hand folding her wrist.

Instead of calling on the lie, he kept silent until the door opened. With a bing, they walked inside the confined space and the doors shut before them.

Three –

Four –

Five stories down, V'ek let out an exasperated sigh.

"I did not." She admitted.

Spock admitted to himself that this whole day was pure catharsis.

**.**

**.**

**.**

It did not take long for V'ek to become unsettled once more, "The Ambassador will inform my grandfather the second he is informed of our recent actions."

"An inevitable result." He answered.

"I am experiencing a form of dread." She stopped in her step and looked out of the transparent wall, gazing at their impending confrontation, "It is a shame that this is something I am now most familiar with." She confessed, obviously referencing to her own SIM experience.

"I share your sentiment." Spock responded, looking at her through their reflection, "You must know, my father will not provide a favorable response. But your grandfather and my father are not one in the same."

She quizzically stared back at him before staring back to their intended path and the door that awaited them. "He has become quite unpredictable as of late. Regardless, your father must agree, otherwise this is all for naught." They began walking again.

Spock contemplated his next words as they reached further to their destination, "Not if we force his hand." He said right before the doors swished open.

Instantly, there were flashes of light, which caused bile to climb up his throat. It took everything in him to not run for cover.

"I used to say ' _This is not who I am.'"_ She whispered, momentarily distracting Spock from the invading illuminations.

Spock concentrated on her voice. "As did I." He nodded, seeing more of the frenzied media marching towards them. They were a swarm of bees.

"But I have accepted it." V'ek let the tension loose from her shoulders as she announced this. "I daresay might like it."

"Like it." The advised as if reading out a commandment. He said it quick, knowing that their time for privacy was almost up. "Cherish it. Do not cower from it and never forget it."

_Not as I have forgot it._

She nodded once more after squinting her eyes at him, "Spock … I have one more query."

He blinked a few times, thinking of what it possible could be. "Do speak quickly."

V'ek erected her posture knowing she had seven more seconds. "Sweetheart?"

Six.

Spock had not personally faced this dilemma, but has witnessed it before. He has witnessed such exchanges from the first year cadets, but definitely not from the fourth or actual crewmembers.

He has also witnessed this from the Warehouse 15 adolescents.

It was an illogical mutation of a casual endearment. "In that instance, the typical endearment was used as a sexist title, a weak attempt to establish his male superiority while simultaneously depriving you of your worth. It was unsuccessful, for he exposed his disquiet as a result."

It was primitive.

V'ek never let her face change, knowing that the cameras were facing her. If anything, she gave them an angle that provided more aestheticism. Perhaps it was calculated or natural. Spock did not know.

Through her closed teeth, she spoke low enough for only Spock's ears.

Two.

"How very … puerile." She said this monotonous remark as she leaned forward to intently listen to the first question directed her way from the reporters.

One.

Both of them accepted this new reality as they spoke before the pestering audience. This was real. This was a concrete as anything could be, and each flash before his eyes was a vivid reminder. Whilst speaking, he could not deny that his thoughts tended to stretch to other concerns - because of course, there were many.

… Spock has attempted to write a response to Jim. He has attempted and failed. As the next logical step, he attempted to call Jim – all met with failure again. It was then that he had to face another reality.

He could not run to Jim.

He could not hide behind Jim.

Because in the end, this was not only about the love he has come to know.

He had to remember himself.

This was him before he met Jim.

This was him with Jim.

This was him as Chief and this was him with Jim as council.

After completing his program, he displayed the very opposite of what he was to Jim, blinded by the righteous trail he was determined to follow.

Granted, he understood that he was left with no choice, so that Jim would not feel obligated to make his own. In the end, Spock was not oblivious to how taking action should have been his first choice, despite the crumbling chances.

He knew, he knew that before they could stand together again, he had to show that this was him. He needed to prove it to himself. He had to show that they could absorb power from each other.

He needed to finally take the role he was given by his people and by his crew.

He needed to show this part of him, for there was absolutely nothing to be ashamed of, and nothing to conceal from his family.

 

He was here.

 

He was respected.

He was adored.

He was loved.

 

And.

He.

Would.

Be.

Loud.

**"Everything."**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> K/S interactions coming soon. (I know if feels like a whole century by now)
> 
> A/N - To any readers that know of my story 'Dum Vivimus, Vivamus' - I just want to let you know that I'm revisiting it from the first chapter. I truly hope to begin publishing the revised version. My '14 and now '17 writing style has changed drastically. For the better too.
> 
> And there is always room for growth. 
> 
> ~X


	61. POST SIM – PART TWENTY FIVE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another update! 
> 
> I guess you could say that this is more of an interlude. I debated if this scene was necessary and the next two chapters to come, but then I realized that I would get questions if they were missing.  
> I literally had this chapter down as a 'Deleted Scene'
> 
> Just like the SIM Ops Interlude, I decided to post it. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy!
> 
> Much love!
> 
> Warning: Sarek.  
> Song: Cloud by Elias
> 
> ~X

** POST SIM - PART TWENTY FIVE**

> _**Celine Varra: ** You all stood there and apologized, taking true and sincere responsibility. It took a while, but the blame was eventually taken away from Starfleet and rested on the actual unfortunate circumstances. Enrollment increased 7% from the 22.7% drop since the terrorist attacks._
> 
> _**Commander Tinibu: ** Well, Ms. Varra, you have to understand –_
> 
> _**Celine Varra :** I’m not finished yet. I will remind you that you promised a better future. We mourned, we cried and held our loved ones. You felt our pain, and yet you have the audacity to do this to us?_
> 
> _**Commander Tinibu:** You say ‘us’ as if you were personally affected._
> 
> _**Celine Varra: ** I am. I’m not one to bring personal matters to my discussions, however I will say that I have family members that are now considering other occupations. This program is destroying their dreams. It also makes the private civilians concerned of what takes place around them. It makes them – us, feel unsafe. It's like the scandal all over again._
> 
> _**Commander Tinibu: ** This program creates a better dream, a better crew and a better ship. Isn’t that what the people wish for their children? We promised to do better, to take action and prevent the travesties that have taken place under our own roof. And that is exactly what we’re doing._
> 
> _**Celine Varra: ** Corruption cannot be healed with corruption, Commander. Sounds like some twisted form of justice you all have secretly adopted from some primitive planet we have yet to know of._
> 
> _**Commander Tinibu: ** How is holding Starfleet to a higher standard ‘corruption’? Forgive me, but the fears of some shaken emotions within the officers are nothing but exaggerations. All testing is unique to each officer. The empathic and telepathic have to go through different struggles, yes, except everything is restored once completed. Their claims of xenophobia are extreme -_
> 
> _**Celine Varra: ** I’m going to have to cut you off here. This is a field in which we do not have the accurate data to –_
> 
> _**Commander Tinibu: ** We have sufficient data, and over a dozen special officers that are healthy as can be._
> 
> _**Celine Varra: ** That’s exactly what they’re saying they’re not. Are you listening? You cannot deny that those avoiding their appointments only ask for the reasonable. Forgive me, but if Starfleet is now held to a higher standard, shouldn’t they lead by example? If not, then we have every right to call this a punishment, not a heightened level of screening – which are also targeting cadets. The fear and doubt that manifested through the actions of an Admiral, not a cadet -_
> 
> _**Commander Tinibu:** Once again, you, the media, ignore the involvement of other high-ranking officers. my late colleagues Commander Aplin, Lieutenant Commander Atif, Lieutenant Commander West, Commander Aksum, Commander Clarkson were included in the corruption. They manned the very ship that crashed down._
> 
> _**Celine Varra: ** Yes, but -_
> 
> _**Commander Tinibu:** A crew of six in total were on that ship. Now, the SIM exposes such officers that serve solely in their self-interest before they can inflict any damage. Before missions are compromised, sensitive data is sold and innocent lives are lost._
> 
> _**Celine Varra: ** And again, they could only act on those self-interests by one proclamation by an Admiral that promised and had the power to execute their selfish wishes. Do not claim that they did this out of simple villainy. They did not have the resources. So, I fail to see how this request is anything but logical. The SIM may clean the batch up, but the root remains, and as long there is one corrupt Admiral sitting up there, there is always a chance of another crew of six, all motivated by their self interest - Because you see, interests are forever evolving, and with enough seduction, recruitment in corruption is always possible unless you cut it from the root._
> 
> _**Commander Tinibu: ** You’re misconstruing my words. You’re using one rare case to justify a belief that is a rarity in its own. I assure you, the root does not need to be extracted._
> 
> _**Celine Varra:** Not extracted, but most certainly exposed in THE SIMULATION. Let those roots greet the sky and become branches for a day, Commander. No harm done, right?_

**.**

**.**

**.**

Jim.

Leonard.

Nyota.

His father.

 

These were the only people to have ever sat in his living room couches, the table seats and walked on his floors in general.

Post the official announcement of their position; their ordeal has certainly caused attention. Sarek specifically made sure that Spock’s audio notifications were over capacity. It was V’ek’s suggestion that she be present when he inevitably presents himself.

 

“I cannot express a sufficient amount of gratitude for what you have accomplished, Spock.” She said while sitting on a couch across from him with some freshly brewed tea.

“For what we have _all_ accomplished, V’ek.”

Once Spock inquired about the last time she obtained sustenance, he immediately made her some snacks. There were two times in which he almost added extra salt, the automatic gesture he would do for others, excluding his father.

She nodded, taking a sip of her tea. “I must ask, what kind of ingredients did you utilize for this appealing flavor?”

“The tea in particular is imported from the Assam region in northeast India.”

“This is the most favorable out of all the black teas I own. I assumed I tried them all.”

“There is an innumerable amount.”

“You should take the time to observe T’Mureen’s Academy quarters. She shares it with V’dum. They both informed me to extend the invitation.”

By regulation, cadets could only room with those of the same year, except for the Vulcan cadets, this was lifted so that they could room together. V’dum was a first year cadet, whereas T’Mureen was part of the sixteen to graduate.

“And what is there to find with this invitation?”

“T’Mureen long declared her personal mission to seek out the most identical herbs for those we lost. Of course those residing on New Vulcan are endeavoring to do the same, and somehow, in spite of that, she continues. Her collection is rather fascinating and her intricate network of comparison to each ingredient makes it simple for us to utilize in the dorms.”

“I see…” Spock would have known that if he were more involved. Then again, he did not live in the dorms.

“So far, Bengal tea with seven milliliters of Orion _kremlet_ is the most satisfactory of dupes for Vulcan Spice tea.”

Spock missed that one the most. It was the very drink that aided in his excessive studies prior to submitting his application for VSA. “I have yet to try that one.”

“I will keep you involved on future developments then.” She placed her cup down, slightly tilting her head. She did that a lot when in thought. “Shame. I assumed you were knowledgeable of this."

He was not. “Negative.”

“I am aware that the Enterprise, and your Captain’s health has been your primary objective. There is no fault. Tea is the least of your concerns."

“It appears I have developed a tolerance to simple, easily accessible Terran beverages and foods, instead of beginning an effort to discover somewhat similar tastes. An intended luxury soon forgotten, it seems.”

“We all have our priorities, Spock.”

 

T’Mureen’s tea collection was just another thing Spock was kept out of by his own volition. V’ek’s eyes squinted ever so slightly, indicating that she was affected by this. It would not be long before she inquired as to how much he was unaware of.

 

“Prior to Ensign S’kuul’s departure, he passed down his Terran recipe of Bertakk soup to Steek.” She said randomly.

“Ah.” _Steek_ , Spock thought.

“You do not bother to conceal your exasperation. Interesting.” She raised a brow and leaned closer. She clearly found some humor in it. “Steek is an aggressive individual. I will not deny it.” She blurted out as if reading Spock’s thoughts.

“He is the spitting image of what the humans think of us.” He pointed out.

V’ek agreed with a nod, a look of amusement on her face. “I am able to personally request the recipe if you are interested.”

“Bertakk soup is programmed into the food-processor units.” It has been for the last six years. Therefore, Spock was not interested. “You are aware of this.”

“I am, except this is better, otherwise I would not have bothered to mention it.”

“Then I will ask for it myself.” Something in Spock tugged at him and told him that he had to keep checking on the cadet anyways. Perhaps follow his career, curious as to how someone with such a limited mindset could progress. He wished nothing but the best for all of them.

“I spent my efforts in keeping the Vulcan cadet population as comfortable as possible in this human environment. It appears that I should have included you too. You were not even aware of the challenges in Professor Jong’s class.” She said after she swallowed her biscuit. “You are as out of the loop as a first year. I expected better. Shame."

Out of the loop implied _cluelessness_.

“… are you humoring me?” Spock blinked, astonished by the carelessness in her words. This was the first time an individual became comfortable with him this fast.

“Is it working?”

“It is … odd.” He awkwardly expressed, hiding his expression behind his cup.

She found no insult. “I will take that to mean that my efforts have been sufficient.” She said after taking another bite of her snack.

For an unknown reason, Spock felt defensive. “And if you must know, I am somewhat in the loop."

That could not have sounded more childish. This illogical urge to prove himself ...

There was a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Do tell.”

“For example, I have – “ Spock had to remind himself that memorizing all the names and the intended Starfleet fields of each was not being in the loop. “… Ensign S’kuul was the first to initiate the Academy gatherings. A time when one could openly express their latest cultural challenge. It has come to my attention that exposure to ‘slang’ was the most interminable complaint.”

“Ah, slang. Shortened language. As S'kuul would say, the ultimate disgrace of Standard. A metaphor here - An idiom there - An utter of an unrecognizable term with no official definition to look up is also common. Truthfully, when in the face of a double entendre, it has every ability to make the most intellectual stutter mid sentence.” Her shoulders slumped instantly. “My SIM was a crash course I never asked for.”

Spock sympathized, “My crash course was and still is my crew.”

“Your acquired knowledge from your crew must have made communication easier with the add-ons in the SIM. Many would call you lucky.” She said casually, “If luck were not merely the subjective interpretation of previous events, once the outcome becomes apparent.”

“My life experiences have resulted in me to become more relatable.” Spock admitted, “Despite the tampering with my memory, my skill in human interactions remained the same.”

“Is it illogical to despise that the responsibility of being relatable always rests with us? I would like to seize a human and make them learn Vulcan in all its dialects, old and the new. To teach our culture so that unofficial terms could be instantly recognized and more -.” She heavily sighed in thought of it. “The infinite potential we could unlock, Spock.”

“There are an abundance of cadets that have taken an interest as of late. My former student, and a current communicating officer, Lieutenant Uhura is the most skilled.”

“I heard you two shared a relationship of a romantic nature. Considering your differences, I find that fascinating. It must have been pleasant to share that.” V’ek did not speak of how Nyota was a human. “Except – “

 

And there it was.

 

“Lieutenant Uhura is an unsound example.”

Spock’s brows furrowed together. “Explain.”

“What I mean is an individual that takes the time to learn, sharpen the tongue, to specifically be more relatable to you out of relieving the task from you. Lieutenant Uhura was already a skilled an knowledgeable individual. She may have shared this responsibility with you, however it did not originate for that. In fact, I believe the idea is a myth. For example, Frank never bothered."

Spock would have informed V’ek that it was not a myth, but his lips and vocal cords never followed the simple instruction of opening, moving and speaking. Jim’s efforts to relate to Spock were not a myth at all.

“Even your late mother, Lady Amanda Grayson was knowledgeable of common Vulcan to converse with the Ambassador freely prior to their bonding.” V’ek added more in awe than anything. “Regardless, it is of no matter. We will make do, for we all still have each other.”

V’ek then crossed one knee over the other, sipping her tea and not faltering in her intense stare. What in the world took place in her SIM for such thoughts to develop?

If there were more freely expressive Vulcans as her, his past might have been different. For the better even. But Spock was not blind to how V’ek still abided by logic. She breathed it … and yet – she was different.

Different was good.

**.**

**.**

**.**

The second Spock’s front door swished open and Ambassador Sarek made his arrival, V’ek and him stood erect, awaiting reprimand. The radiating presence in front of Spock was a pounding reminder of his place.

There was always a respectful relationship between the two, never incredibly troublesome. There was a thin line that each of them walked and they were most definitely aware of it. Despite their disagreements throughout his life, his door was always open for Sarek and vice-versa. Visitations were never one that required preparation, invitation or announcement.

One choice against Sarek's wishes in Spock’s life never altered that, and he continued, as a son should. The respect of the parent and son never faltered.

 

Now that he was the center of this palpable tension, he feared that his father might have taken his actions as anything but respectful.

One choice has just become two.

 

Sarek swooped in like a villain from one of Katherine’s stories, his robe flowing like a cape that swayed by a separate force. “I should relay each statement I have heard as a result of your actions," He said lowly, and almost dangerously, "Many were uttered with colorful insults I cannot begin to disassemble for clarity."

 

There was a moment of pause as if giving V'ek and Spock room to respond. Neither of them chose to speak because they saw the opportunity for what it was.

It was an illusion.

 

"I have already been swarmed by a plethora of them because of your _Captain_ , and now my own son’s involvement rendered me speechless in a crowd of inconsiderate fools!”

 

For a moment, Spock suspected that V’ek would inform the Ambassador of their newly acquired skills to decipher each insult and its meanings; therefore they could be of some assistance. Obviously she knew better. Instead, she stood beside Spock, her eyes directed at the intimidating man that exuded fury.

Spock’s minuscule hope that his company with V’ek would ease it was absurd.

 

“You should have warned me.”

 

“As you have warned me?” Spock spoke to his father for the first time in days, spitting out the crass truth.

 

Sarek stepped back, appearing to be physically hit by Spock’s rhetoric query. “Your actions today further prove my assumption that my warning would have been delivered in vain." He answered, his stoic expression returning instantly, "The cadets’ heeded our warning. My only objective is to protect them. Through our failings in the negotiations, we have provided another way, and that is to return home."

“That is no longer an option held with much favor, Ambassador." V'ek stepped in with a hint of hesitancy that seemed almost foreign on her tongue. "The majority has expressed their desire to continue with Starfleet.”

"Our _'desires'_ have been ignored, Lady Grayensha." Sarek did one shake of his head, as if wondering how she could willingly look at these people again. "What more do you need?"

She could not have shut her mouth quicker, for if she had spoke, her disdain of it all would have showed.

 

Sarek then directed his attention back to Spock, “I see now that this tendency to follow your Captain at every turn has become more harmful than ever. Is this a retaliation for my silence?”

 

Spock cringed internally. He felt so small. 

 

“To believe that my actions are a product of a nefarious, illogical, personal vendetta is an insult. I have merely provided my perspective to another option that they were already considering prior to hearing my views, and they are willing to seize it." Spock could hear V’ek’s breathing slow down, “They wish, _we_ wish, to remain in Starfleet, and not just any Starfleet, but one that will never speak of harming their officers again. A better Starfleet.”

“A _better_ Starfleet." Sarek almost mocked, as if the proposition was a preposterous one. “That is exactly what they claim to be achieving. You and Lady Grayensha looked into the camera and declared war on your beloved Starfleet when we could have withdrawn with dignity. We recognized that in essence, this is their loss, not ours."

 

Spock wished to have said that there was no dignity in retreat, however that was the mindset of his ancestors, the very mentality that killed thousands in pointless war. To say such a thing would have been frightening for his father to hear. Vulcans were by no means 'pushovers', and they always tried with the best of their ability, but in a logical manner, consequently operating under their calculated chances.

 

Spock and V'ek were doing this after their chances delved into lava.

 

“In the end, if our concessions are not met, we will return as you have wished.” Spock finished, still feeling his father’s vexation through his very cells.

Sarek narrowed his old eyes, cocking his head up, “Do not forget that it was your eager suggestion and that of your crew that urged for more honestly in their public admission, which ultimately planted the seed to this SIMULATION drivel. The humans have reacted exactly as the Admiralty predicted. And you believe that joining this … strike, that all will end well?"

“We only endeavor to succeed." _  
_

 

V’ek kept her eyes on Sarek, so that when Sarek finally acknowledged her existence for more than a second, stepping closer to her, his authority became more prominent. “You. You were the first to declare your refusal for withdrawal.”

Spock slightly widened his eyes when he heard her gulp. He fixed his face immediately.

“Correct, Ambassador.”

“And now you are willing to withdraw should this go awry.” Sarek’s underlying query was clear. _‘Why?’_

“Ensign S’kuul and I have attended the Academy together as the first Vulcan students. He has expressed his sincere repentance of his decision to abandon what he has always endeavored to create for himself. I aim to avoid such regret. Also, I have had my people surrounding me after my first year. For them to leave, feeling as though they were pushed out, is a great hindrance to me, for I also cannot reach my full potential isolated from them. I am not Commander Spock. There is little success to be found alone. I wished to believe otherwise – “

“But you have now come to understand your truth. You must know, your leadership throughout the years have been noticed, Lieutenant. It is understandable that you would feel responsible as well.” The hiss that came from Sarek was a low one. It was a tired one, “My son must have persuaded you to pursue this challenge by using this knowledge as a tool.”

Negative. Spock was too busy doing exactly the opposite – Not manipulating V’ek.

“We persuaded each other, sir. I have listened to him just as he has listened to all of us. He heard our concerns and sought out a conclusion to fulfill all objectives. We either stay together as we so desire without the SIMULATION program looming over us, or we all return, knowing that there was literally nothing else we could have done.”

 

Sarek stepped back, blinking to the ceiling with a deep exhale. The weight of the increased stress must have built up beyond tolerance. “Your overbearing grandfather appears to agree.”

Both V’ek and Spock did a double take. The fury Sarek brought into Spock’s home vanished completely. Spock briefly worried if his psyche has become faulty and detected this incorrectly - wishful thinking.

“Ambassador Omum and Ambassador Athehliab, with much debate have agreed as well. In my opinion, they did not have an option, for their people have expressed their wish to join this insanity at an alarming rate. As of this moment, I am in the same position as them.”

“Sir, are you implying that you will join us?” V’ek dared to ask.

Spock stared at his father and observed the darkness in his eyes. It was one of clear, unfaltering determination, “I am your Ambassador, and as such, I will speak for the people. I will not allow a single breathing sentient being to claim that we are fragmented.”

“Father – “ In the eyes of Sarek, this should have been seen as a rebellion.

“As envoy, there were never difficulties in expressing my beliefs in relations to Vulcan-Earth relations, because they were identical to those very few I represented. I have erred in allowing my position to be a place of leadership when it is a place of proper representation. It is no longer those very few, but a growing group of young forming minds. To express anything other than what you wish to convey would be an abuse of power.” Sarek declared with a low swallow, “Do you understand?”

“…Affirmative.” Spock said in the raspiest tone. He could feel V’ek’s smirk.

“Very well, then.” Sarek huffed, unclasping his hands, satisfied that he aired his thoughts out. “Now, I expect full SIM summaries from both of you, delivered to me by 2200, UTC Terran time.” It took much courage on his part.

Not once has Sarek inquired about Spock or anyone else's SIM, except that once, and even then, it was vague. Sarek knew in theory, but today, he would know in detail.

 

“There is another method of sharing such details.” V’ek pointed out.

Sarek turned to the Lieutenant. “And what might that entail?”

“We could provide them to you.” Spock suggested, “Right here. Right now.”

There were two obvious problems to this in Sarek’s perspective. One, Spock knew his father assumed that a simple SIM summary file would be more preferable for them, for it was more comfortable for everyone involved. Two, mentioning their SIM experiences would mean it would have to be done together.

 

V’ek did not mind.

Spock did not either.

 

Sarek tilted his head, peeking behind them and noticed the tea and snacks properly sorted on the small table. He would have already noticed them if he sat down prior to reprimanding them. “This has clearly been discussed and agreed upon prior to my arrival.” He concluded.

“Indeed.”

And so they all sat down and Spock poured a cup for his father. With one sip, Sarek hummed, indicating the pleasantness of the peculiar flavor.

 

With the next sip, Sarek spoke. “I have had yet to update you of our latest discoveries in tolerable replicates of our traditional ingredients. How could I, considering our other priorities – Nonetheless, it has been made to my knowledge that Bengal tea with a hint of – “

“Orion _kremlet.”_ Spock and V’ek finished in unison _._

The morphing of his father’s facial expression softened so fast, a few wrinkles disappeared in its downfall.

“If only we could improve our trading relations,” Sarek placed his cup down with closed lips, “Never mind. Now, SIM summaries.”

 

And Spock shifted in his seat. “I will begin.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The ‘kremlet’ is a made up spice on my part. The only information I could find, that I did not hear myself, were of mainly alcoholic beverages and illegal aphrodisiacs. Crazy planet xD
> 
> Will update really soon. I have some family coming over on Sunday - so I luckily have them written already. Just a few edits, then poof!
> 
> See ya soon!
> 
> ~X


	62. POST SIM - INTERLUDE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the second deleted scene! This takes place before "CH.60 - POST SIM – PART TWENTY FOUR (2)"  
> I have to run, so I don't have much to say here.  
> Hope you enjoy!
> 
> Warning: Gore?  
> Song: Beretta Lake by Teflon Sega
> 
> ~X

** POST SIM - INTERLUDE **

   

**.**

**.**

**.**

> **_COMMENCING SIM 9273SK91720 _ **
> 
> **… DAY (89) SELECTED.**

**_James:_ ** _On his face! His poor face!_

 **_Gigi [Add-On (44S3)]:_** _Can you believe it? What a buffoon!_

 **_James:_ ** _You'd think he never took a step in his life._

 **_Gigi [Add-On (44S3)]:_ ** _I know I would. Mental note, never allow that idiot near the kitchen again._

 **_James:_ ** _He should just go back to laundry._

 **_Gigi [Add-On (44S3)]:_ ** _Not that - Never that again. Not everyone can do it with military precision like you, Kirk?_

 **_James:_ ** _What can I say? I'm a neat fella._

 **_Gigi [Add-On (44S3)]:_ ** _Whatever._

 

This image before Spock had to be some delusion. Jim has never discussed having any form of close association with that woman. Granted, they lived together … but a friendship was never mentioned. Perhaps they were acquaintances. Spock honestly had little data to refer to, because the only emotion he could discern from Jim during their time together was his urge to eliminate her.

And yet, there they were, being awfully comfortable with each other as they made their way to a half full table of other plainly dressed Salvatus occupants.

Spock watched with the burn of bile boiling in his esophagus. He let the discomfort worsen without care, because despite the scenario taking place, the noticeable element that Jim looked to have gained at least five pounds since his last viewing was a comforting one.

It was of little significance that Jim was being cordial with the very woman that sliced him up like hanging meat.

 

 **_James:_ ** _What's wrong with Dorian?_

 **_Peter [Add-On (41S2)]:_ ** _He's going down memory lane, that's what. Today's his son's twentieth birthday._

 **_James:_ ** _He has a son?_

 **_Peter [Add-On (41S2)]:_ ** _Exactly._

 **_James:_ ** _But … how - Oh._

 **_Gigi [Add-On (44S3)]:_ ** _First attack, Kirk._

 **_James:_ ** _Shit._

 **_Peter [Add-On (41S2)]:_ ** _Yeah …_

 

Add-On (82S4), Dorian, was the thin elderly man in the far left corner, picking at his food whilst his other hand digging into his neglected salt and pepper beard. Jim's query was a loud one, so the entire table zoomed into his conversation with Add-On (45S9), Raz, and Add-On (41S2), Peter and the others - Apparently, Dorian did not seem to care.

If he were real, Spock would say that he was 'spacing out' – his attention in another spectrum, separate from his current reality.

 

 **_Gigi [Add-On (44S3)]:_ ** _Thinking back on it, I don't know how we're all alive._

 **_Raz [Add-On (45S9)]:_ ** _It was all so … messy._

 **_Jo [Add-On (46S1)]:_ ** _Dirty._

 **_Peter [Add-On (41S2)]:_ ** _Ruthless._

 **_Zhu [Add-On (46S0)]:_ ** _Never heard so many screams in my life._

 **_Jo [Add-On (46S1)]:_ ** _Then nothing._

 **_Raz [Add-On (45S9)]:_ ** _BAM!_

 

Spock jerked in his spot the same time Jim did. Jim hid it better, unlike Spock, who almost spilled his water. He knew that Raz's clap and shout was an effect for emphasis, but was it really necessary?

 

 **_Gigi [Add-On (44S3)]:_ ** _Silence._

 **_Peter [Add-On (41S2)]:_ ** _And that is the scariest thing of all, right? The fucking silence._

 **_James_ : ** _Preach._

 **_Gigi [Add-On (44S3)]:_ ** _Sure that._

 **_Jo [Add-On (46S1)]:_ ** _I had to hum to keep myself in check._

 **_Gigi [Add-On (44S3)]:_ ** _You have a horrible singing voice. I hope you have a hobby._

 **_Jo [Add-On (46S1)]:_** _Piss off._

 **_Gigi [Add-On (44S3)]:_ ** _Sorry, but you're stuck with me._

 **_Jo [Add-On (46S1)]:_ ** _Well, what did you do?_

 **_Gigi [Add-On (44S3)]:_ ** _I wrote in my journal. Corny, but fulfilling._

 **_Zhu [Add-On (46S0)]:_ ** _At least you didn't draw a face on a basketball._

 **_Peter [Add-On (41S2)]:_ ** _I couldn't ever talk to an inanimate object. You're messed, man._

 **_James:_ ** _I have this recorder … Speaking into it gives me clarity, in a way …._

 **_Peter [Add-On (41S2)]:_ ** _You never know what you do in these times, Kirk. Look at Dorian? He's nothin' but a shell of himself now._

 

These people seemed so calm.

So collected.

They appeared to have had some sanity. He never got to experience these add-ons himself – he never had the opportunity to know them as people, so he could not comment on their moral or anything of the like – but on the surface, they appeared to be _normal_.

One would not automatically assume that these people not only had the capability to kill without purpose, but enjoy it as well.

In that world, mostly everyone has taken a life. The proper question was 'Why?'

Was it out of self-defense? To defend territory – one's items? To retrieve items? To save a life? For the thrill? To establish one's place in this jumbled hierarchy of survival?

There were a multitude of reasons.

 

 **_Gigi [Add-On (44S3)]:_ ** _Here he comes._

 **_James:_ ** _Guys, he must have a name._

 **_Jo [Add-On (46S1)]:_ ** _Nah, that narcissistic bastard refuses to say he has one. Like he didn't pop out of a vagina. Like he didn't have a mama to name his pink ass._

 **_Peter [Add-On (41S2)]:_ ** _Stop being so disrespectful, man._

 

The leader presented himself past the double doors and nodded down as he walked down the aisles between tables. He nodded at his occupants and shook hands.

Jim stared at him, perplexed – curious to this man's nature and on edge. This was only visible to Spock and to none of the other add-ons. Perhaps if he watched this prior to his own SIM, he would not have noticed.

But he did.

He noticed many things.

Like how Jim raised a brow and wondered as to why Gigi widened her eyes with adoration. Not out of jealousy, but out of confusion.

There was nothing to ' _adore_ ' about this ... programed set of pixels.

 

 **_Leader [Add-On (00S0)]:_ ** _Brothers and sisters, I have an announcement to make. It appears that we will not have outside privileges today._

 

A pandemonium of groans followed.

 

 **_Leader [Add-On (00S0)]:_ ** _Another judgment has taken place, and this time, too close to home. It is not a pleasant sight so until the horrid smell recedes, and the evidence removed, we will remain indoors._

 

There was disdain plastered across the leader's face. However, Spock knew well enough that it was out of the sheer inconvenience of it all, not out of the disgust of burnt bodies right outside their doors.

As an underground base – they did not obtain the same amount of resources as Warehouse 15 – so matters like these could not have been prevented, only dealt with in the aftermath.

Jim's disgust was evident when he slammed his fork into the corn. He sneered and shook his head, just as the rest did.

Gigi seemed exasperated, her face under her palms.

On the exterior, they all appeared to be vexed for the same reason.

Those reasons could not have been more opposite of the other.

 

 **_Gigi [Add-On (44S3)]:_ ** _This is getting out of hand._

 **_Raz [Add-On (45S9)]:_** _We have to get better security on the surface._

 **_Gigi [Add-On (44S3)]:_ ** _We don't need that stuff going through our vents and stuff._

 **_Jo [Add-On (46S1)]:_ ** _The younger one's don't need to see that. They wouldn't sleep for ages._

 **_Peter [Add-On (41S2)]:_ ** _I'd sleep like a baby._

 **_Gigi [Add-On (44S3)]:_ ** _Well that's because you're not a kid. They don't understand things like we do. Maybe when they're older …_

 **_Zhu [Add-On (46S0)]:_ ** _Not if all of them are gone by then._

 **_Jo [Add-On (46S1)]:_ ** _We can only wish._

 

Spock could tell that in that moment, he was not the only one that wished to vomit.

Jim was in the center of something that caught him off guard – it was as if he was physically assaulted.

 

 **_Peter [Add-On (41S2)]:_ ** _I'd nominate Kirk for the new security –_

 **_Raz [Add-On (45S9)]:_ ** _If he didn't fall so many damn times mid-sentence._

 

Raz cackled with a mouth full of eggs that were probably out of a carton, and leaned forward to pat Jim's shoulder in a weak attempt to soften the insult. Jim remained frozen as they laughed.

Spock had to ask – what was the point of this desired 'security' if they were not meant to cease the killings?

 

 **_James:_ ** _You guys want security, but talk like you don't care of what's going on out there…_

 **_Peter [Add-On (41S2)]:_ ** _Of course we want security! Who else is going to tell those people to take their judgments elsewhere?!_

 **_Jo [Add-On (46S1)]:_ ** _They're just fucking with our outside privileges. Our nights are already taken from us._

 **_James:_ ** _So … correct me if I'm wrong … but, you wouldn't mind if you saw the smoke from a distance…?_

 

The add-ons looked down, a gesture that would normally be telling of one's shame, but Spock could not sense any.

They felt righteous in their perspective.

 

 **_Jo [Add-On (46S1)]:_ ** _I haven't personally been part of a judgment. Not my business really._

 **_James:_ ** _You feel nothing? Am I really hearing this shit right now?_

 **_Peter [Add-On (41S2)]:_ ** _Did you hit your head one too many times, Kirk?_

 **_Dorian [Add-On (82S4)]:_ ** _And what's it to you, newbie?_

 

For the first time, the man who seemed mostly catatonic, spoke to the rest of the group. Dorian had a deathly glare and he directed them to Jim. It was the kind of stare that old civilizations spoke of in fear – the ability to curse with a look.

… An evil eye.

 

 **_Dorian [Add-On (82S4)]:_ ** _You're not feelin' sorry for'em, are ya?_

 **_James:_ ** _I'm sorry … what?_

 **_Dorian [Add-On (82S4)]:_ ** _ARE YA?!_

 

And that was when they caught the attention of the leader and his Scarface companion. Jim shut his lips and looked around his peers, baffled by what he was witnessing.

Spock could only shake his head. Seeing the realization dawn down on Jim's face, the reddening cheeks and trembling fingers, made Spock want to pause the screen indefinitely.

He should.

 

 **_Leader [Add-On (00S0)]:_ ** _Hello there. I see a little dispute going on._

 **_Gigi [Add-On (44S3)]:_ ** _It's just a stupid disagreement._

 

An important topic such as this was far from stupid. It was something that could easily define the character of each add-on.

 

 **_Dorian [Add-On (82S4)]:_ ** _Don't speak for me, Gigi! We're all sitting here and we find out we have a sympathizer in our midst!_

 **_Peter [Add-On (41S2)]:_ ** _They were innocent questions._

 **_Zhu [Add-On (46S0)]:_ ** _Sounds like you don't think they're to blame, man._

 **_James:_ ** _I just don't see how …_

 **_Leader [Add-On (00S0)]:_ ** _Then let me enlighten you, new one._

 

The leader then proceeded to grab one of Jim's oranges.

He twirled the fruit and gazed into it as if it was a precious gem.

 

 **_Leader [Add-On (00S0)]:_ ** _You see this? This right here is Earth - Our beautiful, untainted, beloved Earth. Yes, we messed with it a little, but she always healed because we never did more than she could handle. Now … introducing her to other planets – other ... creatures, it opened doors that were never meant to be open._

 

Jim stared as the leader began to peel the fruit with his stubbed fingers, eyeing a knife across from him as he breathed in, nostrils flaring.

 

 **_Leader [Add-On (00S0)]:_ ** _In a way, I guess you could say we asked for this. Maybe we traveled too far, found these colorful aliens and led them back here – or maybe one of those Federation species sold us out. Allies – more like 'all lies'._

 **_Jo [Add-On (46S1)]:_ ** _Damn right._

 **_Leader [Add-On (00S0)]:_ ** _Because of what we allowed to be known about us and acting as if we're some bubble of happy sister planets – we made ourselves a target. What these judgments symbolize is mankind taking back what He gave us. You may see fire, Kirk – but what you should see is a rewind button._

 **_James:_ ** _By making us a primitive species once more._

 **_Leader [Add-On (00S0)]:_ ** _Heh. Better primitive than dead._

 

The leader then stabbed the fruit with one of Jo's knives and let the juices seep into the wooden table without a care. With the knife still erect, he picked out a slice from the side and slowly put the fruit in his mouth, beginning to chew in an agonizing pace. He continued to speak whilst picking the stringy pips off his tongue, ill mannered in his finest.

 

 **_Leader [Add-On (00S0)]:_ ** _Don't waste your efforts, Kirk. I'm sure your opinions are innocent. Sure, you may entertain that being alone is better than with us, but remember – we're your people. We have your back._

 **_Zhu [Add-On (46S0)]:_ ** _'Cause they sure won't._

 **_Leader [Add-On (00S0)]:_ ** _Oh, they won't. Come across a group of them, and they'd cut your throat by their very teeth if they could. It's pitiful that they don't realize whom this planet belongs to?_

 

It all happened too fast for Spock's mind to grasp what was taking place in front of him. 

He covered his mouth, his cup forgotten, becoming nothing but fragments on the floor.

 

 **_Gigi [Add-On (44S3)]:_ ** _Jesus!_

 **_Zhu [Add-On (46S0)]:_ ** _Fucking shit!_

 

Spock was suddenly rooted in his spot as he witnessed this man yank Jim by his growing stands, lengthening his neck and teasing his jugular with the tip of the glistening knife - Pressing deeper and deeper until the idea of gulping became synonymous to a death sentence.

 

 **_Leader [Add-On (00S0)]:_ ** _They'll watch your blood spill and dance around it._

 

Jim shut his eyes and had his jaw clenched excruciatingly tight, both hands in formed fists planted on the edge of the rotting elongated table. He didn't dare move an inch. Not even when the leader leaned closer to Jim's ear, a movement meant to derive tension and fear.

And it worked.

 

 **_Leader [Add-On (00S0)]:_ ** _But you'll soon learn._

 

Spock only allowed himself to breathe when Jim filled in his lungs like the opportunity was one he thought he never would be presented with again. He was surprised Jim did not collapse right there and then from the excessive stress.

Only the laughter of Scarface could be heard in the background of Jim's desperate wheezing.

**_._ **

**_._ **

**_._ **

 

 **_Add-On (10S0):_ ** _You can't leave, you know._

 **_James:_ ** _I can't leave? I can't leave?!_

 **_Add-On (10S0):_ ** _I guess in a literal sense, you could sneak out. But I advise against it. It's not like he'll kill you – it's against his principles. You know … mankind gotta stick together and all that._

 **_James:_ ** _There are no principles. They're fucking crazy!_

 **_Add-On (10S0):_ ** _I'm trying to make you feel better here, new guy. Don't make it harder than it is._

 **_James:_ ** _I've lost my mind. I've officially lost it. They're one of those … those judge – I can't say it._

 **_Add-On (10S0):_ ** _Because it's not judgment, it's murder?_

 **_James:_ ** _Yes!_

 **_Add-On (10S0):_ ** _You're human though._

 **_James:_ ** _And? Does that mean I should be incapable of basic humanity?_

 **_Add-On (10S0):_ ** _You have advantages that many others do not. You have to acknowledge that._

 **_James:_ ** _But they're killers…._

 **_Add-On (10S0):_ ** _I personally haven't seen them judge anyone. They only speak of it as a necessary evil, one that is separate from them. These aren't judgment grounds._

 **_James:_ ** _I'm going to puke._

 **_Add-On (10S0):_ ** _And that's why you can't leave._

 **_James:_ ** _And who are you to tell me that?!_

 **_Add-On (10S0):_ ** _I'm someone who knows you're sick. For one, you're almost finished your first batch of medication. You're going to need more._

 **_James:_ ** _I'll get more._

 **_Add-On (10S0):_ ** _Hospitals have been raided clean._

 **_James:_ ** _Then I'll check the houses._

 **_Add-On (10S0):_ ** _You're going to clear each house in the state? What, you're going to go out there and claim a whole neighborhood as your own, with shops to boot?_

 **_James:_ ** _Whatever has to be done –_

 **_Add-On (10S0):_ ** _You're being unreasonable. Take advantage if this opportunity - You have people to talk to. You have a bed. You have food. And someone in your condition can't afford any extra stress, which is what you'll experience when outside alone. You'll sleep in closets. You'll check and check and check if everything is secured. Your muscles will stiffen so much from the perpetual anxiety, it'll be a natural state of being._

 **_James:_ ** _I ca … can't …_

 **_Add-On (10S0):_ ** _We all have to make our sacrifices. You're not the only one._

 **_James:_ ** _They call me a sympathizer –_

 **_Add-On (10S0):_ ** _Stay away from labels._

 **_James:_ ** _Because they tend to be hunted? Is that it?_

 **_Add-On (10S0):_ ** _You're catching on. Blend in plain sight. You must do this for your life._

 **_James:_ ** _Until I can leave._

 **_Add-On (10S0):_ ** _It's something you have to at least plan accordingly. Can't have you perishing after one night. I'd be alone._

 **_James:_ ** _You'd run away with me?_

 **_Add-On (10S0):_ ** _I was thinking of it myself. Might as well. You seem like an okay guy._

 **_James:_ ** _If I'm an okay guy, then what are you? Who are you?_

 **_Urain [Add-On (10S0)]:_ ** _Urain. Call me Urain. And I like to think I'm okay too._

 

It was a terrifying experience, witnessing Jim ultimately decide to temporarily give up one of his vital fundamentals – to witness Jim physically shiver as he broke this portion of himself away to live another day – and to finally see Jim become acquainted with the half-Betazoid friend that died repeatedly in his nightmares.

Spock felt physically ill.

 

This Jim was nothing like the assertive man he met. This was the Jim that was slowly realizing that one day, he would have to face the world as he was. A luxury Spock and hundreds of thousands of others did not have.

This was Jim being a logical human being. Despite all the previous footage of Jim's irrational actions, this was a sight of him once again fighting for his life. He was a walking contradiction.

Perhaps Jim was a man that decided that if he were going to die, it would be on his own terms. This was not the method or the time.

He had to buy time, and that was to smile and continue as is.

 

But one thing changed.

 

Kirk of Camp Salvatus never spoke to another again, only Urain. He never acknowledged their existence and whenever the leader came close to Kirk, he never paused in his actions or greeted the man, as he should have.

Out of all the occupants, Gigi was the most offended, always endeavoring to catch Kirk's attention and failing with each attempt.

Kirk's actions, or lack thereof were outright rude, especially those to the 'leader'. Kirk could only school his face impassively so much. Regardless, it was better than sticking a knife in the delusional man's crooked face.

 

Spock could see the thirst in Kirk's eyes and it was one that any wise being would be wary of. So when Jim of Warehouse 15 asked Spock whom he envisioned on the punching bag, it was because Jim had his own demons. He had his own faces.

 

Urain often halted in her chores to gaze in Jim's direction, her lips tightened and thoroughly disturbed. She felt the bloodlust with each evening filled with preaches. As a mere spectator, Spock could observe what Jim could not, and that was Urain sensing Jim's emotions through her abilities.

Spock then deduced that she could sense the leader's tainted past – a man capable of vicious murder. If the man didn't proudly admit it to Spock himself, he would have already known just by looking into those eyes and sucked into that dark aura composed of everything vile.

Urain knew and she kept silent for Jim's sake. It may have been in vain, since Jim  could be very observant at times.

 

As the leader became more exaggerated on his thoughts - the recordings of the camp meetings began. Like Jim explained on their first night together, the records served as a reminder to never trust people again.

But Spock discovered something else. He discovered that they were also a reminder to never allow people in – to never let his guard down and protect what must be protected. His morals could not shift – over his dead body. It was a reminder that once outside those doors, he would never conceal his opinions again.

It was a reminder that he had to get better, because an improvement in his illness would be the only way to accomplish this. So, he ate more – he exercised frequently and remained hydrated. Urain became a trusted ally and informed Jim of each attack, keeping careful watch over him.

Jim's stay would be temporary thus making Salvatus a stepping-stone. He would return to the world and become a survivor.

Spock knew this, and consequently shut the screen off.

It was unnecessary to watch another minute.

 

With each file Spock received and read, with each one he composed, the image of Jim's slit throat resurfaced in his thoughts. It would not have been a death brought on by a phaser or an explosion, but of a slow, searing inevitability as the blood flowed in its unnatural direction, filling up Jim's airways as he clung onto each minute.

Dying, dying, dying all alone in this alien environment.

Spock squirmed and grimaced at the text plastered before his tired eyes. It was almost like the words were a falsified background to the fabricated scenarios floating above it. Soon, the typing on his terminal slowed down in his darkened room, the movement of his fingers hindered from the developing crimson pool above the illuminating console.

A blink later – the air sucking view of murder around him disappeared. He swallowed, the taste of blood on the back of his tongue still lingering. No amount of mouthwash or tea could eliminate it.

 

Just like the phantom pains from his thigh, his only option was to work around it.


	63. POST SIM - PART TWENTY FIVE (2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to Prime Time!  
> This is yours truly, Marisol Vogul, with an exclusive!  
> Stay tuned!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I have an update here that's heavily dialogue based. I hope you don't mind. Since there will be many public appearances for Jim and Spock, I wanted to at least make one of them extremely detailed.
> 
> Everything underlined is a reference to the statements V'ek and Spock made in Chapter 60: POST SIM – PART TWENTY FOUR (2). They're not actually quoted in the interview.
> 
> Song: Shadow Of The Day by Linkin Park  
> Warning: Society.
> 
> ~X

**POST SIM - PART TWENTY FIVE (2) **

Marisol was a woman that possessed all the edginess to intimidate and seduce her victims … her _guests_ , simultaneously. "I thought you were going to back out last minute, Greg." She curved up her wine stained lips as she proceeded to stand up from her luxury cushion couch to firmly shake the Dhar's hand.

"Never, darling." Gregory smoothly replied with a smirk worthy of any playboy.

"Wouldn't blame you after what just happened. But then again, nothing's too tough for you it seems." Marisol then bypassed him and looked at Jim from head to glossy shoe. "It's such an honor to meet you, Captain."

Jim had to remind himself to keep cool. If there was one thing he knew, it was people. And he always showed people what they wanted to see when necessary. "Please, no need for all this formality. I've been told that I'm just a farm boy."

Marisol and Gregory's laughs ate away at his nervousness as he adjusted the mic on his collar. Marisol's was earnest whereas Gregory's was forced - a facade to fit in the current environment. 

Gregory knew people just as much as Jim.

"Hard to believe." Marisol implied with a wink.

Maybe this wouldn't be so bad.

**.**

**.**

**.**

**Marisol Vogul:** During the preparation for our exclusive, it seems that unexpected developments have taken place this evening.

 **Captain Kirk:** It seems so.

 **Marisol Vogul:** And before I begin, thank you for coming here today, Captain Kirk.

 **Captain Kirk:** It's a pleasure, ma'am.

 **Marisol Vogul:** So, I must ask, does this recent statement come as a surprise to you?

 **Captain Kirk:** Well – I wish I could say it wasn't.

 **Marisol Vogul:** Are you saying Commander Spock was PRO-SIM all along?

 **Captain Kirk:** Your misunderstand. It's a surprise because his previous attempts landed on deaf ears – just like in all those in the secret negotiations you like to go on and on about. He's not one for repetition while expecting different results. But back to your question, yea - All of us were PRO-SIM in the beginning to some extent. I can admit to that.

 **Marisol Vogul:** Because you understood the benefits - These pros the Admirals speak of isn't some delusion of theirs. It's a fact. People are making them out to be villains.

 **Captain Kirk:** We were only presented with the positives. There was no reason to believe that there were nefarious intentions. Why would we doubt our superiors, especially after they've taken an effort to be better? I had yet to know that this would be an evil road, because we all only noticed how it was paved with good intentions.

 **Marisol Vogul:** To clarify, by 'better efforts', you're referring to the brutal honestly and acceptance of responsibility of the catastrophic past events.

 **Captain Kirk:** Yes. Also, no complaints have been expressed to Commander Spock or I, so the automatic assumption was that the 'promised alterations' prevented the consequences that one typically experienced and expressed prior to its ban.

 **Marisol Vogul:** But you could have seen them with your own two eyes.

 **Captain Kirk:** I could have. But like other Captains, I appointed a trusted select few to create summaries of their assigned officers so that when one received a FAIL or a pending transfer, I was informed of the exact reason behind such a decision. This way, when they did indeed PASS, I would not be made known of intrusive details. As the scores started to trickle in, I will admit that I saw the benefits of the program. Commander Spock was one of the trusted few witnessing the SIMs in my stead, of course, and as time passed by, he has noticed that a few SIMULATIONS were deserving of concern.

 **Marisol Vogul:** Did he take action? Because there are many that believe they're only acting because they're being thrown into the rubble now. They never blinked an eye before.

 **Captain Kirk:** I'm going to have to stop you there.

 **Marisol Vogul:** You disagree?

 **Captain Kirk:** To a great degree. Commander Spock checked up on those officers consistently, and not once did they confess to any hardships as a result of the program. I have seen the reports myself. It is appalling that with all our efforts, the environment we work in, didn't already enable such communication. Granted, I could have viewed them myself, the effects would have been just as detrimental. We were treading in delicate waters.

You cannot carelessly state that the Vulcans do not care, when the actions of Commander Spock and Lieutenant V'ek are a clear indicator that they care. With their statements, they made it crystal clear that these SIMS are damaging us all, including humans.

 

['As of 1036, we have issued a formal complaint to the Admiralty upon the failings of the negotiations by our ambassador, Ambassador Sarek of New Vulcan, whom was alongside Ambassador Omum of Betazed and Ambassador Athehliab of Andoria. Today, we publicly express that although we do not sympathize the severity of the SIM on a human spectrum, we will express our confident conclusion that it is an unfit evaluation method, merely basing it on the aspect that when one is inserted into a SIMULATION, all forms of telepathy and empathy are removed merely to further the efficiency of the test.

It is only logical to conclude that if our minds are affected to such degree, so are those of the humans. Any form of harm to any being is unacceptable.  


We have silently endeavored to reach a compromise, however our concessions were ignored. The failure to alter or remove the SIMULATION program to accommodate for our abilities, to prevent harm to our human peers, is disrespectful and irresponsible. The assumption that we will endure this to continue to serve is a mistake that will not be disregarded.']

 

 **Captain Kirk:** It's a scary thing, to explore the depths of your subconscious. It's not something I'm particularly looking forward to again. But in the end, I can always share what I can of my choosing. The SIM took that option away from me.

 **Marisol Vogul:** And freely broadcasted it to your First Officer and anyone watching -

 **Captain Kirk:** Vice versa as well. As living beings, we all have our personal challenges. After this experience, I know him even more so, now more than ever. As I said though, our challenges were our own – I was never meant to have an exclusive viewing of the troubles lurking in his subconscious.

 **Marisol Vogul:** Captain Kirk, you cannot ignore that you signed up for this – you know, we all know what he has endured.

 **Captain Kirk:** It was blackmail.

 **Marisol Vogul:** Blackmail? Elaborate for me because that's a serious accusation.

 **Captain Kirk:** To not agree would have separated us regardless. And, Ms. Vogul, you do not know, you merely have an idea. Same for me. I saw it all with my own two eyes, and even then, I only had an idea. Now … now I know.

 **Marisol Vogul:** You know – but you knew nothing of him. Explain how that worked?

 **Captain Kirk:** It just worked.

 **Marisol Vogul:** Spontaneous compatibility? That's hard to find in any world.

 **Captain Kirk:** Although him and I knew very little of each other because of the memory manipulations, we naturally made it work. We eventually began to become partners, a reflection of what we currently are. Perhaps in some aspects … better.

 **Marisol Vogul:** So you can confirm that in this 'fabricated world', he was without telepathy?

 **Captain Kirk:** Unfortunately so.

 **Marisol Vogul:** Was he able to function? I am not familiar with all things extraterrestrial. Was he the same person? Was it really like a handicap, as they said? Lieutenant V'ek and Commander Spock have asserted that that another Vulcan will not endure these tests, so they are fighting for something important – however it is based on law, or biology? Pride or pain?

 **Captain Kirk:** It's funny. You can say these things, and be justified in your thoughts because of your lack of exposure, however the Admirals, appointed officers whom have full knowledge of their consequences, decided to do this. So, now that I have returned, with my memories in place, I can accurately say that in the exterior he seemed as normal as any human.

 **Marisol Vogul:** That doesn't seem so bad –

 **Captain Kirk:** But he's not fully human, Marisol. To assume that the way we live, the way we think and operate are the universal norm is irresponsible. A portion of his brain was inactive – missing. That's not the way the Universe intended them to be. If it were, then they would have been born as such. Who are we to change that or state otherwise?

 **Marisol Vogul:** So this is because of their lack of placing leniency towards their laws? Then they're not willing to make the sacrifice to better Starfle –

 **Captain Kirk:** The sacrifices aren't even on the same spectrum. In essence, we shouldn't compare.

 **Marisol Vogul:** You have to give us something to go on.

 **Captain Kirk:** It saddens me that I should.

 **Marisol Vogul:** Is it honestly so hard? The vagueness that some entertain is sabotaging your end goal here.

 **Captain Kirk:** He cried.

 **Marisol Vogul:** Excuse me?

 **Captain Kirk:** He cried, he screamed, he jumped into depression – is that what you want to hear? Do you also want me to say something like he became a shell of a person? Something dramatic like he was in constant distress? That a tear fell down his cheek one night? ... No – you don't appear to be pleased. I can come up with something more melancholy, if you would prefer.

 **Marisol Vogul:** All I am saying is that details matter.

 **Captain Kirk:** Do they? Do they really?

 **Marisol Vogul:** Of course. Otherwise we would be living in a world without context, and context is everything.

 **Captain Kirk:** Context is important, I agree – but this situation does not apply. I could make anything up and you, and anyone in your position, would suck it dry. That's why this saddens me. I'm human. My word shouldn't take precedence over the very public statements we heard less than an hour ago. Why are you asking of what I've witnessed? To make Spock's story more concrete? It's all preposterous. And … and are we seriously discussing if we should trust them? We have two exceptional officers that are not only loyal, but are gifts to Starfleet. Haven't they already built up enough credibility to easily accomplish such a thing?

 **Marisol Vogul:** I ask these questions for those that need it – otherwise this debate wouldn't exist and everything would return to how it was.

 **Captain Kirk:** Then by all means, to those that still require further assertions, reassess your thoughts and re-watch the clip to hear the words from the very source. If my word on his health matters more than his own, than you're part of the very problem we're dealing with.

**.**

**.**

**.**

**Marisol Vogul:** Now that we are back, I have to ask - we both are aware of how things can be deciphered through various minds, but you must have known that your words would be taken as a call to action. This is in relation to the human officers and cadets.

 **Captain Kirk:** I'm not sure what you're insinuating.

 **Marisol Vogul:** So you're going to deny it too?

 **Captain Kirk:** I'm afraid you'll have to be more specific.

 **Marisol Vogul:** I'm not one for games. Don't take me for a fool.

 **Captain Kirk:** I didn't deliberately call this into action. All I did was remind the people that there is a community, there is a family, and there is an appreciation for the ones we work with and live with for months to years at a time. Communication is key and how we're treating each other right now is a recipe for disaster.

 **Marisol Vogul:** That, that right there is what I'm speaking of.

 **Captain Kirk:** I never intended for things to be of this gravity.

 **Marisol Vogul:** Say what you will, but it has. It seems that Commander Spock agrees, but he was more … demanding, specific and less vague. Are you troubled by this?

 **Captain Kirk:** Not in the least.

 

[The quality of Starfleet is at stake. Therefore, it is logical that our demands are to be met for the benefit of Starfleet.

Today, we have unanimously decided to cease withdrawing from the Academy. We have also decided that we will not abide by our appointments.

As included in our complaints, we demand for two things. To remove the excessive strain on the psyche of all officers implemented by the program, or remove the program entirely. One of those must be obeyed, whichever one they choose is of their prerogative. However our demand that all those grading the SIM, to have a grade of their own, is not. Since reprogramming seems unlikely and their hypocrisy remains untouched, the complete removal of THE SIMULATION is the route they should take, assuming they are willing to operate under moral and logical means.  


Starfleet is meant to accommodate all. To do so, is to recognize the laws of all Federation species, to respect all of its loyal officers' concerns and prevent any hardship that can easily be avoided.]

 

 **Marisol Vogul:** When Commander Spock states that all those that finalize the SIM grades should have a grade of their own, he's specifically speaking of the Admirals. They're the judges after all. Some are saying this is far-fetched. They have nothing to prove after all.

 **Captain Kirk:** It's not about them disproving themselves as corrupt; it's about proving themselves worthy of our trust. Commander Spock and I … pardon me - all those under Starfleet aren't keen to hypocrisy.

 **Marisol Vogul:** Interesting. Tell me, were you already aware that your First Officer is willing to resign? You've spent years together, accomplished great things together and yet, this is worth separating over? You admitted yourself that you would do whatever you had to, so that such a result could be avoided.

 **Captain Kirk:** There's no one I'd rather serve with, but when someone has been faced with so much … disrespect, it makes one wonder why they should stay. He said that he stands with me, with us all, but he also stands with his people. Their physiology is not meant to tolerate this. It's the unfortunate reality, and if Starfleet intends to not accommodate their needs, our needs, then they will leave. And this will be a permanent stain in our history. Shame to say but this will begin the slow dismantlement of what we hold dear.

['I have served Starfleet for most of my adult life. If our requests are denied, then it is clear that my position, and that of my peers are not respected, therefore not needed. I have no qualms in joining my people and utilizing my skills elsewhere.']

 

 **Marisol Vogul:** While Lieutenant V'ek supports Spock's statement, she's also rather adamant that it's either all or nothing.

 

['It is because of our experience that we can warn our people, just as Captain Kirk has. We have meditated, our minds have re-calibrated, but that is no excuse to willingly allow others to experience trepidation and handicap, all to appease the Admiralty's preposterous methods of vetting viable officers. In this, all Vulcan cadets, including the ones scheduled to graduate in the closing season, Commander Spock and I, refuse.']

 

 **Captain Kirk:** You're right – it is a shame. If the Admirals think that the telepathic and empathic endowed species' removal is worth this program, then … is there anything worth saving? Although we are the epitome of unity, our form of unity included the appreciation and respect of our differences. Now we are acting as if we possess the same brain. It's ridiculous, not including that program pains them all, some are more than others.

 **Marisol Vogul:** Similar to the pre-warp sentiments of _"I do not see color."_ – It was never meant to have an unpleasant undertone, but it essentially did have a negative impact.

 **Captain Kirk:** Sounds innocent, right? – but it has the capabilities of birthing so many ignorant actions. The reality is that we see them and they see us. We can't play blind. We understand and know how they differ. We are being told explicitly, and the Admiralty are operating under the idea that they do not see the difference … and our sacrifices are somehow equivalent, and in that, they have lost the meaning of our unity. To see us the same is an error. We are allowed to be different while simultaneously having the capabilities of being one. That is the United Federation of Planets. And as Starfleet, we are an extension of that, and therefore should operate under those plain and simple principles. We are back tracking and looking more primitive than ever.

 

[We object to power without constructive purpose.]

**.**

**.**

**.**

**Marisol Vogul:** We have taken a quick break, and now we're resuming our conversation with Captain James Kirk, the man who led the crew that has succeeded in the impossible many times before and destined to succeed in the future.

 **Captain Kirk:** They are exceptional.

 **Marisol Vogul:** I bet they are. How do you feel about the transfers? With the lack of grades of other ships, your crew has also yet to be finalized. Must be a troubling and a time consuming process.

 **Captain Kirk:** My senior crew is still with me, thankfully. There will be a lot of changes to handle in the upcoming weeks. Although there are a few that are compatible with the Enterprise so far, I have to make sure that they can tolerate a mission of this duration.

 **Marisol Vogul:** Five whole years. Deep space. I see a little smile there. Your excitement must be excruciating to hide.

 **Captain Kirk:** Nothing is better than exploring the stars. I wish the crewmembers that are no longer with me the best. I wish the ones that are stuck with me good luck. We're a unique bunch indeed. Each of us with our own tics, you could say.

 **Marisol Vogul:** Some of the transferring officers might understand those tics more than others. A little too well, I'll add.

 **Captain Kirk:** …

 **Marisol Vogul:** I'm speaking of the operatives.

 **Captain Kirk:** Oh, I see.

 **Marisol Vogul:** There are thirty operatives in total. How will you feel with even one ending up aboard your ship, knowing every tic of the people that walk past them in the decks? Knowing each of your tics.

 **Captain Kirk:** They will be nothing but professional. They are under specific conditions that will result in severe consequences should they not abide by them. Also, without a request through the Captain, one cannot discover who their operatives were.

 **Marisol Vogul:** Awkwardness avoided then? Hard to believe? It'll be no worse than a frat or sorority house.

 **Captain Kirk:** It won't hinder the atmosphere. I can promise that.

 **Marisol Vogul:** Do you know of the operatives that were assigned to yours and Commander Spock's SIM? You two don't have to go through the hoops and hassle of submitting a request.

 **Captain Kirk:** We have had other priorities. When the time comes, we will deal with it then.

 **Marisol Vogul:** From the data I have gathered, some might say that the operatives were playing God. They also had the capabilities of directly speak through the add-ons if need be. Aren't you the least bit interested?

 **Captain Kirk:** Not at the moment. Maybe after this whole thing settles down. I'm not sure. Curiosity is a great advantage and a flaw - I worry of which one this could be. I have other tasks taking precedence at the moment. This dilemma, for one.

 **Marisol Vogul:** You said that the SIM is inhumane. A cheat. You received a PASS, so how did you overcome this obstacle? If it was as bad as you said.

 **Captain Kirk:** Truthfully, he was just surviving day by day, doing what he had to do, and it's shameful to say, but there was a time that he forgot who he was. When Commander Spock found him, he was reminded that he could be himself again. There were people they bonded with, and together, they made the most of that cataclysmic event.

 **Marisol Vogul:** You must have been lost in more ways than one.

 **Captain Kirk:** Sure was. I'm not proud to say that he was a bitter individual, lacking faith in mankind altogether.

 **Marisol Vogul:** About that, your lack of faith in mankind derives from your previous involvement in a community divided in the face of hardship, as you said – mind going back to that one for us? We didn't forget you know.

 **Captain Kirk:** There were a few memories that weren't erased, and the one I hinted on was one of them. So since this was the second time around for my SIM self, he barely tried. He was alive, but he was sometimes careless. He was dancing on the edge, knowing he wouldn't willingly cross over, and still accepting of this edge all the same.

 **Marisol Vogul:** Are you hinting at suicidal tendencies?

 **Captain Kirk:** No. He wouldn't uselessly throw his life away.

 **Marisol Vogul:** I have noticed that you say 'he' a lot. Why do you disassociate yourself from your SIM persona?

 **Captain Kirk:** I do not completely separate the two. I understand that 'he' is me at the end of the day, but also that 'he' is a me that is without the memories and lessons that currently mold me. 'He' is who I was prior to joining Starfleet, you could say. 'He' only had ideas of everything around him from witnessing the heavy concentrations of horrible examples of mankind.

'He' has not appreciated its greatness, awe-inspiring potential and love. 'He' is the ' _me_ ' I could have been in another world. He is someone that I accept as a part of me, but as a part of me I am proud to have surpassed.

 **Marisol Vogul:** I wonder if there are others that feel the same sentiment.

 **Captain Kirk:** I don't know if that'd be a good or bad thing.

 **Marisol Vogul:** There has been speculation of which memories you speak of. Commander Spock's is not complicated to deduce, sadly speaking. On your part, some have theorized that this was from a mission perhaps. A memory of your childhood? Do you plan on explaining the details anytime soon, dare I ask here?

 **Captain Kirk:** The details are actually common knowledge.

 **Marisol Vogul:** Then perhaps our sources came up short.

 **Captain Kirk:** They came up short because it's hidden in plain sight. As a teenager, I was promised anonymity. The flashes of cameras and perpetual inquiries caused hindered my healing. The promise to be nothing but an image, but a part of a group of nameless individuals, was given to me so that I could live my life freely. So I fled, I studied, I aged and soon, all was forgotten. We were all forgotten.

 **Marisol Vogul:** We?

 **Captain Kirk:** There were more. Eight more to be precise -

 **Marisol Vogul:** That would make nine of you privileged with this anonymity. I must tell you that such an endeavor is impossible in today's day and age. It must have taken tremendous work for nine individuals to be given complete freedom after a travesty, especially one that is supposedly common knowledge, Captain.

 **Captain Kirk:** The public was satiated with a simple picture, a title and misery, all coated with a success story. And as I said, the curiosity, as powerful as it can be, died. Sometimes the imagination is more entertaining and attractive than the truth.

 **Marisol Vogul:** Perhaps I'm going over bounds here. Correct me if I'm wrong – But are you … are you speaking of the 'Miracle Nine'?

 **Captain Kirk:** …

 **Marisol Vogul:** By your nod, I take that as confirmation.

 **Captain Kirk:** Yes.

 **Marisol Vogul:** And the SIM can be an accumulation of one's biggest fears and most emotional moments of ones life?

 **Captain Kirk:** That, and more - Much more.

 **Marisol Vogul:** That is terrible.

 **Captain Kirk:** Unfortunately. Rescue came too late for me then. But in the end, I have to remember that there was a rescue nonetheless. At least someone tried. It's something I cannot say for my SIM.

 **Marisol Vogul:** I'm sorry, but I have to clarify. Are you implying that there were no attempts at rescue?

 **Captain Kirk:** There was no rescue, so my program ended as it naturally would.

 **Marisol Vogul:** And how was that? What was that? Where were you?

 **Captain Kirk:** Well literally speaking – I was still home. But Earth was invaded. Earth's atmosphere became an impenetrable shield. Earth was colored by every beautiful hue, each one being its own type of acid. Earth citizens were disintegrated by the hundreds, and eventually, Earth was made anew. … Simply put, Earth wasn't Earth anymore. At least the Earth we know anyways.

 **Marisol Vogul:** … Then who was Earth made anew for?

 **Captain Kirk:** You know what … I've never seen their faces, only their weapons – but I do know this, they were strategic, they were ruthless and no matter how hard we tried, they were successful.

 **Marisol Vogul:** You lost.

 **Captain Kirk:** Losing would imply that there was a battle. No. There was no battle. We were ants … No. That was an unsuitable analogy. Ants work together, and abide by endless formation. Unity was the last thing we had, so I don't know what we were in the end …

 **Marisol Vogul:** You are implying that there was a war within the war.

 **Captain Kirk:** There was a _game_ \- A game that made us all blind to the war.

 **Marisol Vogul:** By your conclusion, do you believe that everyone deserved to be burnt out?

 **Captain Kirk:** I can say this. With the way we operated, we didn't deserve to thrive.

**.**

**.**

**.**

There. He said it, and now he was being stared at as if he was some unrecognizable, undocumented being. After Marisol snapped twice at the cameramen, she gulped, inching back in her seat with a leaked stunned expression. It was a face she wouldn't have ever showed to the public, and the slump of her shoulders was evidence of the pure relief of no longer being obligated to conceal her shock.

Jim turned to the right take in the sight of his mother, whom was standing next to Edmond and Gregory and noticed how she nodded once, reminding Jim that he was doing the right thing.

With each moment of communication, he grew more grateful for her presence. Come to think of it, there was much to be thankful for in this world, even if things didn't always turn out his way.

 

"Planet wide apocalypse?! _Our_ planet?" Marisol blurted out as if to confirm if she heard everything correctly. She then shook her head, "Of course - Two tragedies commingling to create that _parasite_ of a world."

"And this is taking place as we speak. Parasites can take on many forms. Each SIM is unique because everyone's experiences are unique." He responded immediately without emotion. "It's still a parasite in the end."

Her perfectly groomed chestnut brows scrunched together as she moved her sleeked hair to the side. Her tough and daunting demeanor softened as she formed a tight smile of sympathy, "I'm so sorry."

There was nothing to be sorry for in Jim's book. He simply shut his eyes as he held the bottle of water that was given to him not long before. He brought it to his lips and hydrated his parched throat.

Marisol looked around the room quickly before leaning forward to whisper near Jim. "Did anyone know?"

He didn't know if she was referring to Tarsus IV or his SIM. Truthfully, it didn't matter anyways.

"Everyone knows now." And he couldn't turn back from it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~X


	64. POST SIM - PART TWENTY SIX

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well... today is the day that man gets sworn in. I hope this update can distract you from it.  
> I would only direct that message to the US readers, but this is obviously a world issue.
> 
> Anyways, this is part one of a double update, so expect another one coming in the next few hours. 
> 
> Sending all the hugs out there.  
> <3
> 
> Song: It's Gotta Be You by Isaiah  
> Warning: Sarek. 
> 
> ~X

**POST SIM - PART TWENTY SIX **

.

.

.

**You two are equally insane.**

**A match made in heaven.**

**\- LM**

**##=##=##=##=##=##=##=#**

**The obstacles still remain.**

**All are outside the realm of ‘compatibility’.**

**\- S**

**##=##=##=##=##=##=##=#**

**The lack of teamwork is definitely one of them.**

**When did we become so unreliable?**

**\- LM**

**##=##=##=##=##=##=##=#**

**Perhaps he believes that we are overbearing?**

**That we lack the support?**

**Lacking the temperament?**

**\- S**

**##=##=##=##=##=##=##=#**

**That’s gold coming from you.**

**Can we blame him?**

**\- LM**

**##=##=##=##=##=##=##=#**

**Most certainly not.**

**\- S**

**##=##=##=##=##=##=##=#**

**.**

**.**

**.**

 

Theatrics were necessary, Jim said – and so Spock finally agreed. By now, Spock knew that his last message to Jim was read. He then assumed that Jim was not in favor of the words that were echoed back to him, thinking of it as Spock’s attempt to mock him, which could not have been farther away from the truth. Then again, it was a blaring reminder of their final hours before the SIM - A time of dread and simultaneous peace that they absorbed from the other’s presence.

Soon, as the interview continued, he appreciated that Jim’s responses counteracted his fears. Jim has answered all the questions with ease as if he expected it – as if they were doing this together. Jim was presenting the illusion like a true skill.

Collaboration was inevitable, however Jim acted as if they had already spoken.

For someone that always had trouble with media – had excessive conferences specifically speaking of how he should conduct himself and watch his words on camera, was now carrying it out exceptionally – like an art form.

Undoubtedly, Spock concluded that by the recent pictures on his PADD – the Dhars had something to do about it. Also, from the picture, there was a human woman next to Jim – and unfortunately, there was not enough detail shown for Spock to identify the person. Perhaps she was a part of Dhars team.

It must have been a big team, because there were inquiries ringing from his terminal, all from a Franklin Mason.

 

As the interview continued, Jim also spoke of how Spock was stripped of what he held dear.

Jim spoke of how Spock was an honorable man, an element that was mentioned by both V’ek and Sarek in agreement as they watched, the table now cleared of all food and beverages.

Sarek fluffed his robe and crossed his arms tightly to lean closer. He had his eyes squinted as if Jim was an unidentifiable specimen. He did not move as Jim took over the interview and made it his – in his control.

 _‘This is telsu._ ’ was on the tip of Spock’s tongue, but he instead continued to sip his third cup of tea. Proudly and publically claiming Jim as such was in another lifetime. Instead, Spock chewed on his last grain cracker, watching Jim and watching them watch Jim.

Once Jim mentioned Tarsus IV on national holoscreens, Spock could feel the blood leave his hands the moment his fingers snapped the thin rectangle between them.

This was Jim’s story, and he was taking ownership of it – acting nothing like how he iterated it to Spock in the privacy of their room.

 

“This man … he does not blame you for what he has endured.” Sarek spoke in a way that pressed for explanation. It did not make sense to him.

There was a time that it did not make sense for Spock either.

V’ek nodded her head and stared, not looking away from the screens, “It would make sense, for he has contributed a great amount himself. The fault does not rest completely with Spock.”

“Still,” Sarek was not satisfied with the answer, “What Spock has experienced, and how it has affected the program, should be something Mr. Kirk holds in great disdain. If anything, he seems triumphant as he speaks – making it absolutely clear that my son has not inflicted any harm to his psyche.”

“Did you expect otherwise?” V’ek asked, after taking a quick glance in Spock’s direction.

“I am not certain of what I expected, but _this_ is not what I expected. He seems erased of all trepidations - “

“He is a unique individual,” V’ek hummed, “We must not forget, Ambassador. They were partners. And is that not what they are in our reality?”

“Such extreme loyalty, even with his memories returned…” It was clear that Sarek would contemplate this for an immeasurable amount of time.

“You are surprised.” Spock easily deduced, “I informed you that he still wishes for me to remain as his First Officer – “ Which was enough evidence that Jim did not hate him.

Of course he refrained from informing his father that Jim did indeed say those words once – Spock could still hear them echoing in the back of his mind, whispering above the dead bridge in his subconscious.

“For your skill. “ Sarek retorted with a light scoff. “You are an incredible, irreplaceable asset. He has served with you once. By that alone, he would be less than wise to be rid of you. Although he is Captain, he is young and needs as much wisdom as he can recruit. He has showed skills of a worthy tactician on numerous occasions, so this is not a surprising decision.”

The observation was carried out in such a condescending tone.

“Father – “

“You began Warehouse 15, Spock. It thrived because of you. Just because Mr. Kirk was willing to end his life for his people, or able to skillfully survive without a single sentient being around him, does not mean he can effectively lead his people. At least not alone. Alone, and he is nothing.”

Spock wished that Sarek could attempt to lift his son without shoving Jim in the bottomless pit.

Confusion was plastered on V’ek’s knitted brows as she blinked at Sarek, “Do you believe your son to be so weak minded, to continue to serve on the Enterprise if the Captain was so inadequate?”

“I would not classify him as inadequate. I see him as someone who believes that his life is of little value, so his sacrifices dim when this fact is acknowledged, whereas my son has decided to live, time and time again when incessantly faced with situations that could crush one’s katra. Why he decides to remain alongside someone as this is concerning indeed.” Sarek simply shrugged unknowingly, “What I do believe is that Spock sees something I have yet to.”

Both V’ek and Sarek turned to Spock, but Spock had his lips shut, quizzical as to how his father could say such a thing. After everything he has expressed, his father reduced what he had with Jim as a practical partnership - A relationship that was solely of a logistical birth.

 

**.**

**.**

**.**

 

_He had to do it._

_He had to indulge. It called out to him in entrancing whispers.  
_

_He watched various days of him and Jim in the base. He was reminding himself of better days. Happier days._

_This level he has reached was indeed a pathetic one._

_So as the days played by, the memory manipulation became such a fascinating thing to witness in the SIM, especially during the moments when Jim and him were both reaching the outskirts of reality – treading a dangerous line._

_The cadet Spock spoke of was in actuality Jim. Jim was the cadet he was speaking of, and yet neither of them noticed this intersection between fabrication, censorship and reality._

_But Spock’s memory wasn’t a lie._

_Thinking and saddened that Jim would never meet Spock’s mother, he had to pause the screen once he realized that the person he would be bonded to was a name on his mother’s tongue right before her death._

_It was Jim that brought upon the last bit of laughter he would never hear again._

_If he had any tears left, he would have shed them right there and then._

_Instead, he continued ahead and was presented with a very troubling sight. His beverage long finished, all Spock could do was curl up on the floor and become devoured by the enlarged images._

 

 

 

> **_ COMMENCING SIM 9273SK91720 _ **
> 
> ** … DAY (389) SELECTED.  **

 

 

 **_ Markus [Add-On (99W0)]: _ ** _Kinda need your help buddy. He’s not doing so great, man._

 **_ Steven [Add-On (90W8)]: _ ** _No one’s doing great. And keep it down, my baby’s asleep._

 **_ Markus [Add-On (99W0)]: _ ** _He’s a sappy drunk in Karim’s room. C’mon, help me._

 **_ Steven [Add-On (90W8)]: _ ** _He’s drinking …?_

 **_ Markus [Add-On (99W0)]: _ ** _…_

 **_ Steven [Add-On (90W8)]: _ ** _Wasn’t Jim the one that said alcohol was dangerous? - That we had to stay on our toes? What’s he thinking?_

 **_ Markus [Add-On (99W0)]: _ ** _Tough guess, but I don’t think he could give a fuck._

 **_ Steven [Add-On (90W8)]: _ ** _Where the hell is Karim going to sleep?_

 **_ Markus [Add-On (99W0)]: _ ** _Apparently he refuses to go. I’ve even offered my room._

 **_ Steven [Add-On (90W8)]: _ ** _God, the kid doesn’t need to see that._

 **_ Markus [Add-On (99W0)]: _ ** _Hey – Chief can’t find out about this. I’m serious, man. He may not wanna talk to me, but he’s still my Chief. He’s my friend, and this will break him._

 **_ Steven [Add-On (90W8)]: _ ** _Fuck … Just gimme a sec to find some shoes._

_..._

**_ Steven [Add-On (90W8)]: _ ** _Jim? Jimmy pal?_

 **_ Markus [Add-On (99W0)]: _ ** _I’m going to have to take this from you. I’m surprised you’re even touching this piss._

 **_ Karim [Add-On (71W1)]: _ ** _At least he managed to jug a hyposhot from Dr. Cardenas. Not sure what it’s for, but I’m thinking it’s for the impending hangover._

 **_ Markus [Add-On (99W0)]: _ ** _Shit, she’s sure to notice that too._

 **_ Steven [Add-On (90W8)]: _ ** _We’re dead._

 **_ James:  _ ** _Dead …_

 **_ Markus [Add-On (99W0)]: _ ** _What’s that, Jim?_

 **_ Steven [Add-On (90W8)]: _ ** _You’re going to have to get off the floor. This isn’t your room anymore._

 **_ James:  _ ** _Leave me … alone. Go. Lll…leave me._

 **_ Markus [Add-On (99W0)]: _ ** _You need to get clean. The sooner, the better. You don’t want Chief to see you like this, do ya?_

 **_ Karim [Add-On (71W1)]: _ ** _Heck, I don’t like seeing you this way, Roomie. Please, listen to us._

 **_ James:  _ ** _I’m dis… disgusting guys._

 **_ Markus [Add-On (99W0)]: _ ** _Ah crap …_

 **_ Karim [Add-On (71W1)]: _ ** _No. No, no, you’re not._

 **_ Steven [Add-On (90W8)]: _ ** _Stop that nonsense._

 **_ James:  _ ** _I had to tell him that he couldn’t … can’t be sad. That was … I mean - What we did was right. Fuck, please tell me it was right -_

 **_ Steven [Add-On (90W8)]: _ ** _Okay – you need your hyposhot now and a quick nap._

 **_ James:  _ ** _I sat there … and I preached to him. I mean … I know I’m right. Imma stupid preacher like the rest. Stupid._

 **_ Steven [Add-On (90W8)]: _ ** _You’re sad, man. It takes time._

 **_ James:  _ ** _But I’m not. I’m noooot. Like, what the fuck is wrong with me? I’m …brok…brbr-_

 **_ Steven [Add-On (90W8)]: _ ** _Don’t finish that. My God._

 **_ Markus [Add-On (99W0)]: _ ** _Nothin’ is wrong with you. You have the mind of a soldier. Just like me._

 **_ James:  _ ** _But I’m not a soldier. I wasn’t trained. I’m just me … I’m nothing._

 **_ Markus [Add-On (99W0)]: _ ** _You’re family._

 **_ James:  _ ** _I’m ta… tainted. I thought the things I did out there were bad. Bad … very, very baaad. But this? This is bbad._

 **_ Steven [Add-On (90W8)]: _ ** _No, no – you’re just pissed as hell and you need clarity. You know better than us that this isn’t a kind world. You deserve to be mad, but only at the situation, not yourself._

 **_ James:  _ ** _I don’t deserve him. He’s honest – too honest …. Too good … he’s so innocent. He hurts. You don’t feel it ... Like, like I do. I’m gonna ruin him. Shit, fuck -_

 **_ Steven [Add-On (90W8)]: _ ** _He needs a distraction. A really long distraction, guys. He’s not listening to a word here._

 **_ Karim [Add-On (71W1)]: _ ** _I know there’ll be a soccer game later today. I’ll ask Katherine to bring some reading material over as well._

 **_ Markus [Add-On (99W0)]: _ ** _Steven, make sure Terrence keeps Chief occupied._

_…_

_As Spock watched the others struggle to place Jim on his old bed, he failed to suppress the shudder that spiked through him. On this day, his SIM self felt the bare faintness of Jim’s troubles. Unsurprisingly, Jim concealed it effectively that day, except it slowly seeped through the cracks of Jim’s formed walls with each playful shove on the open field, with every fall and successful goal, because each smile fell when Jim assumed that Spock was no longer looking._

_Just like Steven, SIM Spock came to that same conclusion – Jim so desperately required a distraction – one that would have to spark emotions to override the toxic ones brewing inside._

_And there was nowhere to find it. Spock knew that the file would be absent of it, and he was thankful, but he felt the deep loss, because it was a moment in that day when they made each other smile, tightly together, hearing Terrence’s interrupting singing in the far off shower stall soon after._

_Although Spock was correct, he was not meant to see Jim so broken, and he knew that today was the day he crossed a line._

_But could he really be surprised?_

**_._ **

**_._ **

**_._ **

With a small exhale, Spock placed his cup down and faced his father, “As being the only connection to reality, Kirk has exposed an anomaly within the SIMULATION, and revived my telepathy. You should see that. ” Spock began knowing that there would be no end to this, “And from what I have iterated in detail, you should also see that Kirk joined multiple shifts, working himself to the core whilst enduring his illness. He has jumped the ladder and made his way into council, so you should also see that he eventually obtained the absolute trust of every member within our base.”

There were many times he wished his mother was here to speak on his behalf behind closed doors when Sarek said one thing too much, either oblivious to Spock’s pain or causing it deliberately with his staggering disappointment.

But since that was no longer the case, and it never would be again, he had to fulfill this objective himself.

He had to grow up.

And so he continued, “Mr. Kirk could have remained a simple occupant and did his part, except he has decided and succeeded in implementing his influence in every crevice of the base. Because of his separate experiences from us, he has willingly provided us the valuable knowledge of what was threatening us in each hour, which could have had detrimental results if we were without. He was not some senseless martyr. The value of his life is a reflection of whom he surrounds himself with, and he had found that value with us.

He was also a leader in his own way. He mourned just as I have. He became the reason I decided to remain in that wasteland of a planet. So father, you state that you do not see it, but I have given you all the tools required to see it."

V’ek had her mouth parted, her jaw forgotten as she listened to Spock, but never kept her eyes away from the Ambassador.

Sarek released his crossed arms and held the typical pose of any elite official by having his palms caressing the opposite elbow. With a raised eyebrow, his thin lips were in a tense line, listening intently to Spock’s words.

Spock was becoming tired, “You just cannot comprehend, you cannot grasp the notion that although my Captain has saved the base time and time again, … He has also saved me.”

Sarek could make that what he would. All Spock knew was that he would never allow another to say such things in his presence.

“You should see that he is my friend.” Spock had no idea as to why this felt like a confession. With the amount of time he has invested in Jim, this should have been an obvious fact to whoever cared enough to look– and hopefully, one day, if possible, Spock could inform his father of their further developments. And so he breathed in, victorious of sorts, “It would be wise to never belittle his efforts again.”

  **.**

**.**

**.**

V’ek felt the halt of the elongated hovercraft that she was seated in the back of, right next to the Ambassador. She did not recognize the area, so she discerned that this was his stop. With much, much deliberation, she ultimately decided to speak on a matter that has troubled her tremendously.

Apparently Sarek beat her to it.

 

“Apologies, for I am unable to escort you all the way to your destination,” he said, “But there is much work for me to complete and my home was closer. I trust my driver to safely return you to yours.”

“Apologies are not needed.” She responded, knowing full well that Spock would have taken up the responsibility of returning her home. It was Sarek’s peculiar insistence that made her agree to his suggestion of accompanying him home.

Neither her nor Spock could say ‘no’.

Discerning that this was because so Sarek could speak to her privately, she left with him. However, she was incorrect because throughout the commute, they barely exchanged words.

Right when Sarek’s door lifted, she blurted ‘Ambassador,’

Sarek turned to her, unamused and kept his gaze to show that he was being attentive to the concerns that she would address.

“I do not doubt your participation and efforts, however after your son and I had confided in you of our programs, and during the televised interview of Captain Kirk, you actively endeavored to attack - “

She lost her point when she noticed that sharp brow raised high, an expression that was not done when in the face of confusion, but done when one experienced offense. It was like addressing her grandfather.

There were only so many leniencies she would be freely given.

“You actively endeavored to _challenge_ his intentions and intellect,” She rectified her wording, “And provoke an emotional response in regards to his loyalty.” Spock did not deserve such treatment and any fool could observe the hurt those words emitted. He deserved more.

Sarek narrowed his eyes then stared ahead at the partition thoughtfully. “The crassness of my statements were deliberate, Lady Grayensha. I was endeavoring to prove a hypothesis that otherwise had no merit. In fact, it was my first time placing it under serious consideration.”

“And has it been proven?” She inquired, not intending to discover this hypothesis, because if Sarek truly wished to inform her of it, he would have already done so.

Sarek’s held his vacant expression, “I have yet to come to a conclusion.”

“He is your son. You could ask him directly.” She offered, “He would not deny you the answers you seek.”

“I fear that he would.”

Spock would not lie to his own blood … “Unspeakable.”

“I am aware, except, that is my predicament. That should explain my unorthodox methods.”

V’ek was not in the place of questioning their family relations, so she remained quiet.

“We are strange. I cannot conceal that from you. We have always been the strange ones in the flock, and as such, I have learned to work within it. Do not misinterpret it as folly, Lady Grayensha.” Sarek said as a way to defend what she just witnessed, “We are very much connected, and as his father, it was evident to me that my son wished to be alone for a time. I am also concerned that his health is no longer the rightful priority it should be.”

Ah, so Sarek wished for V’ek to vacate the premises.

“He may be discovering his place with us, but that does not ignore this sudden separation with those that have accepted him when there was only Amanda and I.” Uncharacteristically, the man who received all the bows, decided to bow to her, “I ask that you watch over him.”

 

All the way home, her muscles became that of newly formed silk. She made a strenuous effort to erase many things from her mind, especially the palbable emotions that arose from Sarek’s mentioning of his deceased telsu.

She had to forget.

The dead were no longer here. She had to move on.

Just like the Ambassador did.

**.**

**.**

**.**

**How are you feeling?**

**\- S**

**##=##=##=##=##=##=##=#**

**I don’t know if I should be offended by this question or if I should ask you the same.**

**I’m conflicted right now.**

**\- JTK**


	65. POST SIM - PART TWENTY SIX (2)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promised a double update!  
> Here you go.
> 
> PS - I'll get to your comments soon!
> 
> Hope you enjoy!
> 
> Song: Lies by Jane XO  
> Warning: Winona & a reference to recreational drug use.
> 
> ~X

**POST SIM - PART TWENTY SIX (2) **

**.**

**.**

**.**

**##=##=##=##=##=##=##=#**

**How are you feeling?**

**\- S**

**##=##=##=##=##=##=##=#**

 

How was he feeling?

How was he feeling?!

 

“Dinner’s ready!”

“Coming.” Jim replied in the calmest manner, that one would easily assume that his world didn’t just shake on its axis. This man, this annoying, lovable, irritating, phenomenal man, somehow decided that this was the proper method of contacting him. It was an understatement to say that it had lots, lots to be desired.

  **##=##=##=##=##=##=##=#**

**I don’t know if I should be offended by this question or if I should ask you the same.**

**I’m conflicted right now.**

**\- JTK**

**##=##=##=##=##=##=##=#**

**Choose one.**

**-S**

**##=##=##=##=##=##=##=#**

 

In this world and the next, Spock was so certain that Jim would cave in to him – always, and Jim struggled to not for once. He gave in already. He addressed Spock after their awful interaction. It took an innumerable amount of tries, but he got one through nonetheless.

He opened up, again. Although he finally received a response, as beautiful as it was, it took too long – and yes, Jim ultimately knew the reason, but more effort would have been more appreciated.

 

He felt proud and stunned when he discovered Spock’s spontaneous and theatrical form of intervention, but there was an immature sense of bitterness. There were many attempts to shove it away, and all never stood a chance of succeeding.

After today’s extraneous activities, he didn’t have the brainpower to entertain this. All he was obligated to do was send a simple message of _‘Congratulations on choosing a side. The right side.’_ and initiate strategy, because they were obviously now working together – however, it was said to say that perhaps their communication was better in the SIM.

Sad. Another understatement that was.

 

**##=##=##=##=##=##=##=#**

**Please.**

**-S**

**##=##=##=##=##=##=##=#**

 

Fuck.

Fucking fuck.

 

“Do you plan to come here this century?”

“You know what?” Jim pushed his meshed thoughts into the back burner and addressed his mother without his usual distracted and fatigued passiveness. “I think I’m too tired to eat.”

More like his functions seemed to have halted indefinably, the mere idea of taking a bite of whatever his mother made was a laughable notion.

“You must not know me enough to think that'll work.” Winona exclaimed from the other room, her voice never faltering of its threatening aura.

“Who has dinner at two in the morning anyways?” He retorted, squeezing his comm, nervous of his next response - If there was going to be any.

She answered him without a pause of contemplation, “People who haven’t eaten all blasted day!"

Jim shut his eyes and exhaled, inching off his bed with a tired groan, “Ma!”

She wasn’t havin’ it. “James Tib- ’

He ran before she could finish off the rest of his name.

 **##=##=##=##=##=##=##=#**  

**I must assess your mental health, Jim.**

**-S**

**##=##=##=##=##=##=##=#**

**Is that it?**

**-JTK**

**##=##=##=##=##=##=##=#**

**Any complications would be of fault to me.**

**-S**

**##=##=##=##=##=##=##=#**

Glorious. Spock was just looking after him.

How glorious. It was a wonder that Jim knew what to do with himself before.

 

“OJ?” Jim pointed out the beverage placed in front of him. “I could really do with anything else but this.” Since it was mainly a morning drink for him.

A snicker escaped from Winona. “Do refer me to some suggestions. You got rid of your replicator. There’s no milk and your cupboards are filled with nothing but leaves for food and leaves for water. When I suggested that you change your diet, I didn't mean of this extremity."

“There’s nothing wrong with it.” He snipped, not appreciating the judgment.

“I know.” She nodded, “But there’s just so much tea …”

“I was looking for one.” And it was a search that Jim decided to stop, for the basic fact that he came to the conclusion that it probably wasn’t sold anywhere in the country. How Spock got his hands on it, even in the end of the world, Jim wouldn’t know. Maybe this was the Universe’s way of telling Jim to not torture himself with those simple reminders, and that he shouldn’t seek them out.

“Too much caffeine. Enjoy the freshly squeezed OJ.” She gave him a forced smile that was meant to derive humor. It was one that said ‘ _Pretty please.’_

She was a firm believer that if one smiled enough, they would obtain a fraction of the happiness it was meant to show. It worked for her.

**##=##=##=##=##=##=##=#**

**I'll answer.**

**I feel like shit.**

**-JTK**

**##=##=##=##=##=##=##=#**

**Sorry.**

**I could have lied but I just don’t feel like it right now.**

**\- JTK**

**##=##=##=##=##=##=##=#**

**And what of the bond?**

**\- S**

**##=##=##=##=##=##=##=#**

**Nothing.**

**\- JTK**

**##=##=##=##=##=##=##=#**

**You are being purposefully vague.**

**\- S**

**##=##=##=##=##=##=##=#**

 

He wanted to bang his head on the table. He wished that Spock’s observation was a false one, but it wasn’t.

He may have said that he was thankful for it, because in essence, the emptiness saved him. It _was_ saving him. Except, the masochistic portion of him yearned for it to come back. It would have been no different than a curse, but he would reach out for it if he could.

**##=##=##=##=##=##=##=#**

**Maybe my human mind is incapable of explaining the details.**

**Is that it, Spock?**

**If so - then good night.**

**\- JTK**

**##=##=##=##=##=##=##=#**

**I do not wish for this conversation to end so prematurely.**

**-S**

**##=##=##=##=##=##=##=#**

**Then call me.**

**\- JTK**

**##=##=##=##=##=##=##=#**

 

Jim could have screamed. Why did he have to be the one to make the efforts of reunification?

He’d already done so. Him and his computer knew in detail.

 

Granted, he appreciated, heck, he adored Spock’s role in all of this, but what happened to their friendship? Forget lovers – but basic friendship? He just did the hardest interview of his life and while his comm wouldn’t stop ringing all day, none of the notifications were from Spock.

Just when Spock was reeling back in, Jim felt cast aside once again. He abhorred that Spock had such power. Soon, if he worked hard enough, Spock wouldn’t have such power anymore.

Spock made it absolutely clear that he couldn’t do this, that all of it would be in vain and they would face the consequences, hence his swift removal, but he was back. He was back and roaring – but where was he?

 

Five minutes and no call.

Six minutes – nothing.

 

“You’re not touching your food.”

“Just hearing you saying that makes me feel like a kid.”

 

Winona rested her head on her palm and pursed her lips in a mope like expression, “You’re acting like one with all your slouching.”

Jim’s comm buzzed again and this was when Winona lifted herself from her seat and extended her arm fast enough to steal the distracting object.

Caught off guard, he immediately shot up and attempted to retrieve his stolen device, only for Winona to step back and blink in confusion at the illuminating screen.

All he could do was stand still as he watched her features morph from confusion, into anger, then a calm content. She was walking away.

“What is it?” He asked in urgency, “Where are you going?”

 

_Individual detected on the premises._

 

A guest, his brain supplied.

 

Winona didn’t listen to Jim’s previous question in the least, and soon, it became clear that she intended to open the front door. She rushed away on her bare feet and aggressively pressed the buttons, ignoring Jim’s pleas behind her.

There were no appointments for him, especially at a time like this. The only people that would suddenly present themselves would be McCoy, and the door would have just automatically slid open.

 

 _'Then call me',_ he said … didn’t he?

 

_Individual identified._

 

And it stopped spinning.

His whole world stopped spinning.

 

That was when Jim extended his hand to cling onto something for some support, but there was nothing there. No support, only the strength of the bones that were giving out by the second into this realization.

If he spoke, he would have croaked, and that wasn’t a normal reaction – was it? He wasn’t supposed to feel this strangled sensation in his throat. He wasn’t supposed to be conflicted of which direction to run – whether it was to flee or propel himself forward to confirm this undeniable situation.

 

Be careful of what you wished for, they said. If only he had listened, because he was not in the state to trust himself. Perhaps if he awoke, cleaned himself and mentally prepared himself unlike his last visitation, which was as impulsive as ever and unwise to a soaring degree, he would be ready.

In the end, he had to work with what he had been given. So he took the next second or two and breathed in, hoping that this single inhale would wash over him and conceal all evidence of shock and exhaustion.

 

Barely two feet away from his mother, Jim watched her press the final button, revealing a tall and darkly clothed figure presented before her.

 

By the Dhars advice, Jim took to shutting off the outdoor lights and shut his windows, so in this moment, the figure was void of any defining features. It was of little significance. Jim couldn’t deny it.

This shiver was a nostalgic one. This was nothing like the kind he received in the later stages of his simulated life, but of the one he received in the earlier ones and all throughout his real life.

 

This shiver would randomly commence during their time together as he recovered on the biobed, as they shared reports in his home, and now with this new perspective, he daresay admitted that it also occurred during their time on the bridge and in the privacy of his quarters.

 

This shiver said, _‘Hello, welcome back to your life.’_

 

_Identity confirmed as ' Mr. Spock’_

 

Spock was standing close, too close to the door. Another step and the slide of the door would have brushed the tip of his nose. There was a brief flash of pain on his face, but it soon disappeared as Spock took in the woman standing in front of him.

“Well, hello there.” She greeted him, making a show of shutting the comm, making it clear that she obtained it for an unquestionable amount of time that Spock would have to deduce on his own, “I heard you guys don’t sleep much, but I’d think you’d acknowledge we do.”

Spock blinked and blinked, as if attempting to disassemble the abnormal introduction for an inkling of clarity. He appeared strangely vulnerable; a being that was so obviously not used to this level of confusion.

 

Spock wasn’t the only one either.

 

Jim was glued to his spot, forgetting his words, forgetting his senses and basic coherence.

Seven minutes – Seven minutes wasn’t nearly long enough for the commute here. Either Spock was already on his way, or he was parked on the road, contemplating his decision of whether to approach or not.

 

Regardless, Spock was here.

 

This weak behavior Jim was exhibiting was unacceptable, so he put himself together bit by bit. He decided to say the only thing he could, and that was to answer Spock’s internal queries. Bond or not, Jim could still discern a few things. His experience with Spock on the Enterprise counted for something.

So he took a step, then another.

He cleared his throat and that was when Spock slid his eyes off her and directed them towards Jim, his eyes softening with his solemn gaze. This was the reaction of someone that was graced with something comforting, relaxing, and settling against any form of rising trouble.

Jim wanted to tell him to stop looking at him like that, for it was the exact one that sucked him in so long ago – he wondered when he was trapped in it.

 

_Stop … stop it._

 

“It’s okay,” Jim began, proud that he didn’t stutter, since things were very far from okay anyways, “She’s real.”

Winona looked significantly better, which was nothing like the image his memory provided, therefore, he could sense Spock’s contemplation of her altered features.

“She sees you.” He finished.

 

There was a quiet sigh of relief, and Jim knew he landed right on point. Satisfied with his success, he provided a small smile.

“I’m not even going to comment on that.” She huffed as she moved aside to allow room for Spock to enter, still nettled from the intrusion, and by the man in general. She had never hid her disagreements regarding Spock's actions, no matter the genuine intentions underneath,  “Do make yourself at home.”

Jim thanked the universe that she refrained from finishing her statement with ‘ _Again_.’

He would have curled into himself.

 

Spock did not appear affected by the bizarre invitation as he stepped in. This is not to say that he was unaffected completely, because Jim watched Spock cast a glance at the borders around him and into the concealed portion of the doors with a contorted expression before it closed.

Jim wanted to scream that Spock had no right to be displeased about the security modification. Except, against his reasoning, he felt ashamed. It was one of the elephants in the parade that stomped all around them. He could hear their trampling along his pounding heart.

 

When Winona took a few steps, directing herself to her room, Jim did a roll of his eyes, the only thing he could do to make it explicitly known that he did not want her to leave. With a gleam in her eye, she walked faster, not caring for Jim’s evident torture. Be a man, she mouthed off right before she disappeared off the corner of his eye.

 

And so Jim did a quick cough, “How long were you – “

“One hour and twelve minutes.” Spock answered the incomplete question as he unclasped his hands and let them fall by his sides. “It appears that distance is of no significance to our – “

Jim didn’t want to hear that word. “A child could have told you that.”

“I had to be certain. Despite what you may think,” Spock dropped his eyes and concentrated on Jim’s feet, a flicker of doubt showing before it disappeared. He paused for a moment before continuing, “I still care.”

That declaration had every capability of rejuvenating Jim, but he didn’t allow it. If he were going to be fixed, it would be because of his own efforts.

“I reached out.” He manage to blurt out, his lips beginning to quiver.

“And I listened.”

“I went up there _without_ you.” He quickly wiped his faced and breathed in, “I meant what I said. I told no one. No one. Spock, I turned around and, You. Weren’t. There.”

It was too cruel of him to say that. He knew Spock was there in spirit. Jim practically relished in it and was quite literally brought to tears. Spock obviously chose his timing so that Jim wouldn’t feel this way.

 

After his sharp, piercing words, Spock’s only response was a wince. It ached that Spock didn’t bother to defend himself immediately. This Spock was no different than the Spock that was captured in the early days of the SIM. He arrived here with the intent to suck up all of Jim’s attacks. An eerie resignation that didn't belong.

But did Jim not deserve to let it all out? He worked himself like a dog, and as an adult, he had at least three adults making sure he remembered to eat. Not that far ago, he was freakin’ dying. He endured it all before because he wasn’t alone.

Therefore, he has now come to realize the importance of Spock’s role in all of that from its current agonizing absence, because truthfully, he wasn’t alone then or now. The missing variable was that he was just without Spock, and it felt like a crime to place the word ‘ _just’_ before the man’s name. That absence alone gave him the feeling of total isolation.

 

It was draining.

 

“There were many things that had to be overseen. I could not be a valuable ally to anyone, or you, with lingering uncertainties within my family, my people and myself. Do not misunderstand, this is not an excuse, except it was imperative that I – “

“What – found yourself?” He questioned stiffly. Simply put, he couldn’t believe it.

“It is the closest parlance with which you are most familiar with.” Spock admitted, deciding to remain rooted to his spot. “My previous words had merit, I will not deny that I remain greatly concerned of the consequences that could be placed on you as a result of your recent actions. However, I have come to terms that I erred in my methods of caring for you. Perhaps my assumption that you would listen to my advice was no different than an insult.”

 

_Damn right._

 

“For you to even think that I would leave,” he then took a moment, reconsidering his own promise to not raise his voice. It didn’t help him so much last time, “That I would just tuck away my woes and smile, makes me seriously consider your mental health.”

Spock squinted his eyes as if he wondered the same too, “It was my urgent need to seek resolve in a situation that presented none. It was only natural that I chose one that would protect us both. I was compromised. It was not wise of me to exchange words with you in a panicked frenzy.”

“You panicked?” Both of his brows lifted as he shook his head, pointing to Spock. He would have stroked on his facial hair, if he still had any, “You?”

Spock merely provided a small shrug, “In concerns to you, I believe that should no longer be considered a peculiarity.”

 

It was a lot to confess, and as troubling as it sounded, there was an underlying endearment, that if one leaned close enough, they could hear it. Spock announced in the air, without shame or regret, that there was no one else worthy enough to be rendered so out of character.

With each discovery, Jim didn’t know what to do with it.

Regardless, he would be a fool to believe that he was surprised. There was too much evidence to prove Spock’s words.

Power. Jim often thought of the power he had given Spock, when in actuality, he made Spock crazy too.

 

They met each other’s eyes again, each gaze never failing to beguile him. They meant too much to the other, and yet, they were acting like strangers. It wasn’t so shocking that he became thankful of the click that took place behind him.

Thinking that this would break the ice, it turned out that when his mother walked between them … she was all dressed up.

 

She wasn’t here to save him.

She was going to abandon him.

 

“I’ll be back really soon.” She announced, passing Jim without batting an eye, marching directly into Spock’s vicinity. Personal and rude, all coated with false manners, “Make use of this time. I’m sure you’re smart enough to make the most of it.”

She then patted Spock’s chest twice with a blithe smile, each pat loud enough to bounce off the walls, causing him to finch as a result of the sudden force. She was well aware that Spock would detest the action, and she did it anyway.

A hiss of the door later, Spock appeared as if there was an active flame, burning through his chest in the shape of a hand. It would be awhile before he got over it.

 

It would at least give Jim time to recuperate from the very fact that they were alone.

He whispered another expletive under his breath.

 

He bet no one out there cursed more than him lately.

 

**.**

**.**

**.**

>  
> 
> _Normally, I’m one to stroll around in my suit and play the devil’s advocate. I’m the one that knows that there are more than two sides to each story._
> 
> _But turns out, all we hear are a shit ton of stories, ranging from the ‘oh my’ to ‘what the possible fuck?’ _
> 
> _Some when read caused a tear down my cynic pigmented skin. A tear, people._
> 
> _I know, but don’t expect to see one here on this stage. Ya thought you almost got me there._
> 
>  
> 
> _Who here wants me to read of them?_
> 
>  
> 
> _**[#1 – My ship got stuck in a nebula. You’re thinking that we could have avoided it, right? No – by the time we saw it, we were already in its heart. The beating heart. I say this because I don’t think it was a nebula.** _
> 
> _**It was a thing. A thinking thing.** _
> 
> _**I was working in engineering. Then a hallucinogen was somehow distributed, which we then concluded to be airborne after a time. Just when things couldn't get worse, my crewmembers started disappearing. Vanishing. Soon, I was the only one stuck up there, and I floated in the green cloud with no communication for two months. Keep in mind that this is SIM time. It was one week in, that I started to hallucinate crewmembers that didn't exist, hearing voices that weren’t there. How I didn’t become crazy is beyond me. It was a modern ghost story.]** _
> 
> _Well… I’ll tell you #1, I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but you have indeed gone crazy. You’re crazy for being in Starfleet. For being on a ship, following orders by those that don’t give a flying pig about you._
> 
> _My father’s biggest regret is that I didn’t prance around in a uniform like him. He was so dedicated to this buffoonery; I bet he’s still turning in his grave, despite my successes. Good decision on my part, since the SIM would expose how much illegal shit I distributed and how much of my own stash I smoked in college._
> 
> _Heck, and don’t all those poor officers need a reason to smoke now …_
> 
> _I swear those officers and cadets strut into public establishments together, thinking they own the shit, while simultaneously, wholeheartedly, believing that they are the shit! Well, I’m certain you guys don’t feel like the shit anymore, do ya?_
> 
> _Learning to humble yourselves, eh?_
> 
> _Now if I hear of another uniform wearing superhero, saying that they’ll willingly go to their appointment, then I don’t think there’s any hope in Starfleet, ‘cause you guys must be deluded._
> 
> _You know you’re thoroughly fucked when you lay your head on that biobed and get a needle up your vein. No thanks!_
> 
>  
> 
> _But on a serious note, just because I make fun of these officers at least once a week, or twice ... or maybe everyday, it doesn’t mean I wish them harm. And here we have individuals that man their mission, protect and serve with them – trying to hurt them! Not Klingons. Their own people!_
> 
>  
> 
> _Like did we see the same interview with Commander Tinibu and Ms. Varra?!_
> 
> _Jesus. You could see the cognitive dissonance radiating off his scar, looking like Scarface, too desperate for acknowledgment and promotion. Keep in mind that he was just a surrogate for the Admirals. If that’s what’s below them, I can’t imagine what’s above._
> 
> _They actually made the Enterprise command team relive their own tragedies in a SIM composed of a cataclysmic, disgraceful event, that in my opinion, is fucking nuts._
> 
> _So, since I don’t think they’ll do this in public, your friend Jacob Becket, will stick a middle finger up in the air, on the air, on their behalf. You Vulcans and your stoic faces, you Andorians and your creepy antennas, you Betazeds and your hippy talk, I know you want to stick this up their prissy asses too._
> 
> _My antics are for entertainment, they’re childish, so please push that aside for a few seconds because I’m going to show some humanity, probably the most you’ve received since this shit came up and say ‘ I love you’, and sincerely apologize on behalf of all the ignorant humans that you have to take orders from._
> 
>  
> 
> _So on another topic, enrollment season’s coming up … Who wants to sign up and make my rotting daddy proud?_


	66. POST SIM - PART TWENTY SIX (3)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been contemplating a lot lately as I edited a few of the earlier chapters. (I apologize for CH 63. Too many mistakes in that one. I also accidentally rewrote ‘Gigi’ as ‘Gina’. I had no idea, and I rushed the update.) Anyways, most of my time has been used for CH 34, you know … the 61K one? It was tough. I guess you could say I’m sort of in a mood now. I’ve come to discover that no matter how many times I forewarned you of the events, both in my notes and in the story itself, there was no way to prepare for that. 
> 
> It really hurts.
> 
> I also realized another thing. The plot is one that is really precious to me, so yes, I have been dedicating a lot of my efforts towards it. In my computer, I already had K/S moments written up … so I never noticed the distance between them to the degree that you all have. 
> 
> In regards to time, it wasn’t long, but in regards to words – yeah, I have gone a bit overboard. That goes to say, I do not regret it. I feel that if I succumbed and created a premature reunion, I would have regretted it over time. I didn’t work on this for a year so that I could.
> 
> With that said, I appreciate all of you. I intended to keep this chapter for a little longer, but with all the stuff going on out there, and the incredible words of inspiration you have shared to me and amongst yourselves, you deserve it now. 
> 
> You are all in my heart.
> 
> ~XIIVA
> 
> Song: Words by Feint ft. Laura Brehm  
> Warning: N/A

**POST SIM - PART TWENTY SIX (3) **

It is said that when one finally makes the place they move into a valued home, it doesn’t seem so big anymore. The corners don’t seem so far away, the furniture doesn’t seem so stiff, the air doesn’t spark random shivers throughout the day, and the hum is a tune you eventually sang along to without any awareness – all becoming a part of you, an extension of you.

This was true for when Jim settled in. This remained to be true when Spock unexpectedly settled in as well. However, this overall familiarity didn’t seem to occur whilst idly standing across from Spock, unaware of what to say next. Spock’s rigid posture was of one that waited for further invitation.

 

How could Jim utter the words _‘take a seat’_ , if Spock had his own room at one point? How could he say that, if he never bothered to when SIM summaries began? How could he say that when Spock would show up without invitation to see to Jim's health?

This perceptible tension seemed almost deliberate on Spock's end, part of some ploy with an end game Jim wasn’t so sure he could reveal with certainty.

 

Jim swallowed and conjured some form of normalcy, “We should move.”

“Table.” Spock suggested, darting his eyes at the far off seats.

Jim agreed. Spock was right. The couches were too close, and even across from the other, it would seem odd. The center table was too low, whereas, the dinner table obtaining just the right amount of height.

 

The table it was then.

 

Once seated, another gulp escaped Jim, as he moved the food aside. He envisioned himself hitting his forehead as a punishment of the exposing sound. “So … is this your way of beginning a truce.” He muttered after sitting down.

Spock’s couldn’t muster the usual blank expression, failing completely. Instead, he placed both his hands in front of him, his index finger tapping, looking thoroughly disturbed. There was a level of openness to it, “A truce would indicate that we were opponents, which was never the case. There is no need to cease hostilities, because there were none. We were never enemies, or whichever way you would characterize it. We merely had a difference of opinion, all derived from my desire to save you, not attack you.”

“I wouldn’t call what you did a simple difference of opinion.” It sounded too minor to explain what took place between them. What Spock said … it had every capability of breaking him. If anything, it almost did. With all of that acknowledged, Jim delivered his fair share of attacks as well, “If we’re going to speak about this, let’s take responsibility for our words. I don’t think it’s possible to move on otherwise –

“As you said, you have reached out.” Spock repeated, “There is nothing further for you to explain.” He added with a steady, accepting nod, “Consider it forgotten.”

A light derisive laugh escaped Jim as he tightened his crossed arms around his chest, “Vulcans don’t forget.”

It was their usual jest of sorts. Vulcans did not lie, they did not laugh, and they did not forget.

They also did not kill.

… Either was subject to change and that was the dark truth they were swimming in. Instead of the usual acceptance of the jibe, the comment didn’t pass by so easily, as it normally would. Spock’s eyes skated away from his hands and onto his lap before returning back to his tapping.

The new habit was a noticeable one. Just like the pacing, Jim wondered of the others Spock adopted without realizing.

 

Spock parted his lips, only for him to shut it soon after, still deep in thought. Jim kept his internal thoughts to himself and patiently waited. Something was wrong with this picture, and he tried to discern what it was. It was awful to discover that he didn't know.

Then, the tapping came to a halt. Spock tightened his lips and trailed his eyes to Jim’s. If Spock were fully human, Jim would easily point out that there were blaring symptoms of fatigue exuding with every flutter of his lashes – his eyelids becoming heavier each time.

Spock’s fingers curled, forming a fist. The fist was the kind that would typically be formed in efforts to hold back an emotional response, not the yearning to attack something. Jim would know that like the back of his hand.

 

“We endeavor to achieve forgetfulness more than you would know.” Spock whispered, his voice not even required to emit the full sadness of that confession. The formed syllables and sounds created from bare air was enough for Jim to shiver again.

 

It was not ‘ _Vulcans_ do not,‘ it was, ‘ _We_ do not –‘

Spock was showing that this wasn’t some group he was a part of, but a group that was a part of him equally.

 

“They say you should be okay now,” he said, hesitating in his words, knowing very well that he has entered delicate territory. This interaction was a blaring reminder of the messages McCoy left him in their passing days. This was undeniable evidence of McCoy’s speculations, and here Spock was, not bothering to conceal the majority of it.

The intention was not to receive pity, but to show that feigning any emotion wasn’t required in Jim’s presence, especially in a place that they once classified as a sanctuary for them.

“They say you shouldn’t be limited. A part of me wants to believe that because let’s face it, I’m not in your head anymore. You have nothing holding you back.” Seeing that Spock wished to respond, Jim continued to speak so that he could say what he had to, “I just … I mean, I need to know if you’re meditating.”

“My mind has grown accustomed to your presence. Nevertheless, there is no need to worry. It is an illusion of a wound, and one that is superficial. It will dwindle with time. It has significantly thus far."

 

Bullshit. He called bullshit.

Even if Spock was right, the way he was going about it was wrong.

 

Off.

Irresponsible.

Negligent.

 

“Have you talked to your father?” It was common knowledge that the intimidating man was here.

Spock frowned, showing that the question was a distasteful one. “If I were in need of an anchor, he would know.” Spock reassured, “But I am not, Jim.”

 

SIM or no SIM, Captain Kirk was someone who naturally reached out to those that were in need of a hug, because in troubling times, a hug was an anchor. A hug was support. It was radiating, unquestionable love and care.

He couldn’t stop himself from uncrossing his arms, and inching his hands closer to Spock’s. It was as natural as breathing. So when Spock drew back his arms with a jolt of shock before there could be any sensations between them, Jim felt robbed.

This was who he was. This was how he helped his friends. This was how he helped Spock, and apparently he wasn’t allowed to anymore.

He displayed his confusion by being totally still, as if the rejection didn’t register – stuck in the same pose of reaching out to nothing – a mirage.

 

“We have yet to be aware of the full implications of even the scarcest of touches.” Spock explained in sympathetic manner so that he could soften the blow, “It is a risk I cannot allow myself to indulge in.”

“We did last time.” Jim mentioned, thinking of how he reached out to Spock and vice-versa right after the SIM. If anything, the time in between should have given them enough confidence that they would be okay.

There was no comment from Spock, and it appeared that there wouldn’t be one anytime soon.

“You’re nervous.” Jim opined, shifting in his seat. It didn’t help that he was too.

“More than I have ever been.” Spock’s brows arose like he just came to an epiphany, “It would be best to avoid it for both our safety.”

It was obvious that Spock didn’t mean it permanently. He wasn’t an idiot. Jim had two life times to refer back to, to notice the want in Spock’s eyes. There was little, but just enough for him to be confident in his deduction.

Thankfully, the fondness and level of intimacy wasn’t concealed at all. Spock was making it known that he wouldn’t repeat the actions of their last interaction by giving him this.

“Until what?” Jim inquired, “Until the SIM is abolished?”

“Considering that the basis of what we have signed off on depends on it, then that would be amenable, yes. At least until we are sure that it is null upon our success.”

 

Logic.

Sometimes, Jim abhorred it like how Spock abhorred risk. It was something that perpetually challenged him, and he was always prepared to face it head on. Except, there were also times that it was an invincible aspect of the universe - An impenetrable border that could only be passed with reason.

This argument for instance was one that Jim couldn’t fight. Not only because Spock was correct, but because he knew deep in his heart that he wouldn’t move on with his life if his mind was reintroduced to an inkling of what they had shared, and then being forced to move one without it.

 

“I ask that you please remember your words. You informed me that there would be no strings attached.”

“You’ll leave me.” The possibility was a fist over his growing hope. Jim rested an elbow on the table and covered his mouth, squeezing at the fat from his cheeks. Reality was cruel. “You promised them, and they depend on you. You said so in front of the world.”

“It is a more appropriate path, since the Enterprise would be a toxic environment for me, should we be forced to abide by what we have reluctantly agreed upon.”

 

And that was Spock’s previous argument, wasn’t it. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Jim. It was that he didn’t trust himself. The only thing that changed was that Spock was willing to try.

And wasn’t that what Jim asked of him originally? He couldn’t retract on that now.

 

“You want to make this process as painless as possible.” The sigh of relief was heard, and Jim deeply inhaled in response, “I … I get it.”

Slowly, he removed himself from the heart wrenching closeness and decided to grab a cup from the cupboard closest to the sink. He was growing thirsty, and the OJ wasn’t a good choice.

 

“Keep in mind that I will never repeat my attempts to reduce the connection we formed.” Spock said from the table, another attempt to reassure Jim of their position and hopes.

Good. Because Jim didn’t know what he would do if Spock said _‘emotional transference’_ again. He would be lying if he said that his composure would remain. It would disintegrate, making its entire existence questionable.

If Spock really knew what was good for the both of them, he wouldn’t breathe those degrading words in his presence again.

“Don’t ever,” He placed it into concrete, “Not again.” He emphasized, pouring water from the filter and into his cup.

 

The action was one that was done in vain. He never got to brush the edge of the cup on his lips. He never took a sip of the cold liquid, reviving his parched throat. He stayed in place, struck by Spock’s pronouncement of intentions.

“Then believe that it is still of interest to me,” Spock blurted out, almost urgently, “…If you would have me – “

“You shouldn’t be questioning that.” He snapped, forgetting his cup and letting it settle at the bottom of the sink. Instead, he used both of his hands to grab onto the edge of the counter for support, concentrating on every swirl of the cold marble beneath his skin, Spock's silhouette being a mere blur on the corner of his sights.

“It would be the logical response to the hurt that I have inflicted upon you.” Spock calmly responded.

 

Was this man begging for punishment?

Was this some messed up Vulcan code of honor?

Wasn’t Spock the one that said it was all forgotten in the first place?

What – did that only apply for Spock, but Jim was allowed to poke and poke?

 

Coming to a decision, he lifted his hands up and turned around to face the source of his erratic emotions, “Only if you strip.” He demanded with an icy tone.

 

It was riveting, really. To witness those shoulders fall from the shock. To see the drop of Spock’s jaw and the several blinks that quickly persisted. It was almost comical.

“Clarify.” Spock requested with one forceful, intermittent blink. Of course Spock would require explanation.

 

It was an impish thing for Jim to take his time in responding. For a while, he didn’t know what Spock was hoping for. He deliberately kept silent so that he could observe the reaction in its genuine, raw form.

If it meant like how it sounded, would Spock truly comply?

There was a significant difference in tearing apart each other’s clothing in frenzied motions, all to see and taste various parts of the other’s body. There was a significant difference in seductively asking one to remove their clothing so that they could view the other, being enamored as if in the presence of pure, unadulterated art.

Jim’s order to _‘strip’_ was none of those.

But it also wasn’t what Spock was clearly expecting, which was the demonstration of clinical, sterile-like dominance.

 

Jim should have been disturbed of Spock’s lack of disgust and growing display of willingness. He shouldn’t have felt the heat rising all over him because of it. He must have been starting to show some of it on his cheeks.

His own body was betraying him.

 

“This wall you have here,” He started to explain, motioning his hand up and down, taking in the stricken expression before him, “Strip yourself of it. Frankly, it’s making me uncomfortable. I see it and it’s as if we jumped a few miles back.”

Those captivating dark eyes narrowed in Jim’s direction. Spock didn’t appreciate that he was being toyed with. As if nothing occurred, Spock cocked his head up and waited for Jim to continue. The message was clear, and it was that Jim had to be intensely conscious of his next words.

The effortlessness of Spock’s allure was one he experienced many times before, all ending with them buried between sheets, ignorant to the sounds and activities taking place around them.

“For one, you always sat like that. Never an issue - but this …” Jim made a show of his displeasure, nearly identical to how his mother did it just before her hasty exit, “There is something more _fixed_ about it.”

 

“Do tell.” Spock urged on with a calculated tilt of his head. He was being overwhelming, his nervousness a mere blink in the past.

 

This switch was something Jim wanted, but again, he had to be careful for what he wished for.

He wanted his mother back, while simultaneously being thankful of her absence.

He gulped again. It seemed that he was doing that a lot lately. If only he drank his darn water …

 

“Second, your eyes are practically eating me up one moment, then they’re suddenly void of life.” He read off his mental list, trying not to appear affected by Spock sitting up and making his way towards him. Stalking towards him. “Third, you say that our relationship is still of _interest_ to you, when you just said you wouldn’t reduce it.”

 

The Spock he knew made him know in explicit detail, and what he heard must have been the biggest understatement of all time.

Interest.

The word was an innocent one and as foul as they came.

 

Jim swore that he would never separate SIM Spock and the one in front of him. On the other end of the spectrum, he acknowledged that they were different, not because one was incapable of exhibiting the behavior of the other, but because of their self created limitations that resulted in those differences.

SIM Spock never left room for doubt. It was a skill that was used in their daily interactions. Was he really selfish for wanting this?

 

“What is of _interest_ to you, exactly? Because from what you said, it was a fabricated world, a combination of false events." He leaned back onto the counter as Spock inched closer, "I can’t forget that, so if you want me to know – if you want me to believe, then you better, Spock.”

Spock was now close enough for Jim to point at his chest sternly with gritted teeth. There was no skin involved. He was allowed to do this.

 

Spock stopped in his step, unaffected by the childish attack, “You wish for my words, Jim?”

 

 _‘Fuck, yes,’_ Jim thought. Then an abrupt reminder came crashing through. He was physically taken aback.

Vulcans never forgot, so Spock knew exactly what he was doing. And so help Jim, it was working.

Jim didn’t know how and neither did he care to know how Spock’s closeness became so natural and collected, nothing like their earlier moments of strangeness.

Spock knew the answer, so Jim kept his mouth shut.

 

“You point out the oddities in my behavior as a form of ordinary passiveness,” Spock began, looking at Jim’s finger with a solemn gaze, “When it is a reflection of my _utmost_ efforts to adhere to logic.”

Jim dropped his hand and forgot to blink, hit by the smooth deliverance of something that should have sounded so achingly desperate. He made sure to keep his pulse subdued. Touch wasn’t required to feel it pulsating in this little space.

“What is of interest to me is authentic light.” Spock made it sound like his most prized possession. One that was stolen from him, “A light that the rays of the sun cannot satiate. It could never, for the star is a failing semblance of the one I desire most.”

It was undeniable. He gathered that Spock was aware of how this was affecting him.

“This light that I speak of contains every layer that forms a mind that I had the privilege of seeing in its infinite beauty.” If there was a time that Jim felt Spock’s desire to touch him, it was then. “To tamper it with my urge to reach out to you would be irresponsible. All I require is your patience.” He added, taking the time to suppress his emotions, only allowing a reasonable amount for display.

 

For them to be whom they wanted to be was dangerous.

 

“We are not false.” Spock grimaced at the sentiment, “What we had was not false, because I no longer consider our experiences as simple fabrications. I never did.”

Jim averted his eyes. He had to. “Then … what do you consider it?”

For someone who made sure they didn’t hold hands, Spock was being incredibly careless for keeping the distance so minimal. “I consider it a past life.”

“I …” There was consolation in knowing that this significant difference between them was finally put to rest. Now… now he felt like they could truly progress. “I miss us.”

 

It felt like an eternity ago, especially since he couldn’t imagine their true potential in the usual settings of is mind. His home, Spock’s home, their ship – none of it. The anticipation of the hopeful opportunities of filling those blanks was enough to sustain him for whatever duration was required of him.

 

“Should our predicament settle and things turn in our favor, then what we create will dim in comparison.” Both were seeking solace in their close proximity, “I will make certain of it.”

 _“We_ will make certain of it.” Jim automatically corrected.

There was a subtle curve to Spock’s lips, his demeanor now completely changed, “Forgive me, in my perspective it is one in the same.”

“Then act like it.” He asserted.

With one step back, Spock closed his eyes momentarily and nodded. The calm servility was one that was solely reserved for Jim. “As you wish.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N - For those that know of my story 'Dum Vivimus, Vivamus', with much deliberation, I have decided to cease working on it indefinitely. If you would like to receive a PDF of it, I can be reached at 'xeroxiiva@gmail.com'
> 
> It has been really hard for me to skim through the chapters. It's too messy for me to fix. I expected that to a certain degree since it was my first ever fanfiction. I began it in 2014, right when I was discovering my love for writing. It's unfortunate since I sincerely thought I would have the time, but life never fails with its surprises. It had a really small fanbase, but you matter, so if you cared for it at all, I apologize. 
> 
> I promised myself that I would never have a discontinued story. And here I am, deleting this along with TUG OF WAR. Please have faith in my current project and with my future ones, because I promise that this will never happen again. 
> 
> ~XIIVA


	67. POST SIM - PART TWENTY SIX (4)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know what you're thinking.
> 
> "Oh my gosh! A chapter so soon?!?!"
> 
> YES!
> 
> I'm sort of high and in pain at the moment. Fanfiction is a phenomenal healing agent.  
> Dental work is my enemy. I've had at least four procedures done during UNKNOWN and this is my second one during THE SIM.  
> Anyhow, I'm super grateful no one can tell. The aesthetics of my teeth fools the entire world when I really live on a dental chair.  
> I think I'm my dentist's friend now ...  
> I should become pals with him.  
> Get a discount here and there *wink wink* 
> 
> On another note, happy ONE YEAR ANNIVERSARY to THE SIMULATION!!
> 
> Song: Superhuman by Juventa (feat. Kelly Sweet) (Alternative Mix)  
> Warning: Winona
> 
> ~X

**POST SIM - PART TWENTY SIX (4) **

"She was grilling me."

Jim didn't care to understand how the conversation took this direction. After taking the effort of remaining at a decent distance, he couldn't muster tolerating the idea of Spock's absence, even if it was for the night.

Spock didn't mind, acting as if nothing troubling ever occurred between them, providing a small smirk with ease, "That is an expected skill within her occupation."

He should have expected that answer. He knew deep down that Marisol's actions weren't personal.

"It's like she wanted me to breakdown. Who does that?" He pondered aloud, making sure to take a sip of his water next time, tightly enclosing his fingers around it to eliminate the little tremors of foolish nervousness. He'd drink the OJ when his mom returned, if she decided to return. He learned to never question her actions and just go with the flow. That way, he didn't get split apart by the current.

"Rely on the fact that she never will be able to again." Spock announced the satisfyingly calming fact, "You have completed your due diligence."

What a breathtaking truth.

"What if the others are like that?" He asked with an exaggerated shiver.

Normally, Spock would have sighed deeply and looked away, never one for the immature gestures, except he seemed to have taken it seriously. "I will defend you. Just like how you have defended me. Subsequent to that, very little remains on our part."

"Tell me," Jim leaned a little forward from his couch, raising his shoulders as he rested his intertwined hands on the coffee table beside his cup after placing it down, "Was it a little off hand? You didn't find offense in it, did you?"

He tried so hard to not allow Marisol to drag Spock's name. She was a persistent insect, buzzing and buzzing, and the only way to satiate her was to crumble, so that she could return home and be proud of a day well done.

Again, no trouble found in Spock's face, and Jim had difficulties believing it.

"It was executed exceptionally, as expected of you," what a skill that was - for Spock to wrap an observation with an endearment so effortlessly.

Hell, Jim missed him. It must have been pretentious of him to think of that right after Spock softened his ego - but the guilt sizzled away quickly. He missed Spock, and he thought of this too many times with each day.

It was an empty hole - a void that didn't belong.

"Okay. …Thank you?" There wasn't more to say on the matter. Spock's reaction was earnest, and he was speaking the wholehearted truth, just like he'd been doing since he returned inside these walls. Jim didn't have to contemplate on it any further. "And Congratulations on your … whole thing as well." He failed to actually say specifics, hoping it was obvious by the movements of his hands.

Like that actually meant anything...

"It was the result of a grand effort." Spock answered more subdued, obviously referring back to the cadets and a specific Lieutenant.

"You've got quite a team behind you." He commented with a kind smile, shoving that decaying immature sentiment down lower and lower. So low, it would soon become the ashes he walked on.

Mentioning the Dhars really yanked Spock's attention too, "So do you." He responded chillingly.

It was funny. It was real comedic material. The way Spock reflected Jim's tone was so identical, one would think he shared Jim's thoughts.

Of course that was wrong.

Spock wouldn't think those same things.

Spock kept his gaze, squinting his eyes as he nudged his head up, also in thought. It wasn't long before he stopped it and took attention to the empty cushion next to Jim's thigh, "I admit, the response was unexpected."

Unexpected, his ass.

"You loved it." Jim pointed out with a smirk, "They're shaking in their boots."

"I found the experience to be enthralling." It was like looking into a mirror. Spock's smirk was similar in its own way. "There is great jubilation to be found now that we have presented ourselves as formidable opponents."

Spock's reaction was of one that could taste success – taste the tears of the rightfully fallen. He had many attributes and faces that synced along them. He was a scientist, an explorer, a leader, and most definitely a fighter.

Spock viewed himself as someone to be respected, simply because he has given kindness and respect first or in return. However, if one thought to think of anything different, then he would become a threat, someone that would demand his earned respect.

Jim adored all those faces. It may have taken awhile to see this one, but he was appreciative that he got to see it in the end.

And by God, he wanted to launch forward and touch this one. He used to be lost in thought of such a scenario. It always took place right here, in this very spot, stopping mid conversation in the early hours of the night, and finally abandoning his decorum, kissing Spock breathless.

In his thoughts, Spock would eagerly reciprocate. Spock would latch on, adjusting their position and shed himself of his mannerisms. Of course he would - dreams were meant to show what one desired, conjuring it on their own.

The only difference was that those dreams now had substance – accurate sensations and sounds.

It wasn't a dream anymore, and Jim craved to remind himself of that in detail. He didn't imagine it all.

"Someone is in need of your attention." Spock erupted his blurred thoughts, looking directly at Jim's buzzing comm on the table.

It wasn't a big deal, really. Winona only informed him that she would return soon.

Spock must have had an idea, for his satisfaction was an unquestionable one. Jim only wondered why? Did he really wish to evacuate so soon?

"It brings me great pleasure to know that you have resumed contact with her."

Spock was speaking of her as if she didn't just exhibit her disdain for him, and that he was pleased by her arrival – which didn't make sense at all.

Before Jim could address the confusion, Spock cut in, "I remember your troubles and regret greatly. You both deserve a peaceful resolve."

Oh.

Of course Spock knew. Their link wasn't the only one to blame for it. Their game was also a contributing factor. Nights upon nights, he had to end it early, for it ached to speak of it all. James did this – James did that. Most of the stories would include his mother, so he eventually had to think of other ones that didn't include her … and that was a tough thing to complete.

He never got to say his goodbyes.

"It's a good change," He replied, showing his immense enjoyment of the accommodation he currently had, "And people change over time. Uh, that's why she looks like that too …"

"An explanation is not required. Your mother appears to be in adequate health, and that is all that is of significance to me."

Spock's words were no different than a twist of a dagger in Jim's heart. He could feel the oozing liquid coating everything else around it, his arteries becoming deprived of oxygen, cold and dull.

Everything went back to Death.

It sat in its thrown of degrading bones, smugly tilting its head as it gripped the blood crusting edges, knowing and proud that it was the start and the end of it all. No one would take its crown and live to tell the tale.

"I will take my leave." Spock announced as he slowly rose up from the couch. Despite his positive comments, maybe he didn't want to be around for her return.

He couldn't blame Spock.

But Jim didn't care. The control of his vocals became slit, "Stay," He carelessly blurt out.

He could have chosen any other method of requesting the same exact thing. He could have extended the request and said _'Stay for dinner'_ which was exactly what he meant. He could have also said _'Stay a little.'_

He committed a great error with this one word alone. The stiffness of Spock's body was evidence of that.

He wondered if it were possible to have one civil conversation without reverting back to moments that painted their cheeks the shining colors of iron and copper.

Slowly, Spock turned a little to take in Jim's face. His features fell, showing that he wished Jim to do better. Please.

"We're not sleeping." Jim admitted, after rubbing his thighs just so he could do something with his hands, "Who're we kidding here?" He then added with a forced laugh. "I haven't eaten a thing all day and the food's just sitting there. I know you're not hungry, but – "

"Are you certain?" Spock inquired, sincerely giving Jim a chance to take back his words.

"Spock, she'll chop off your head if you don't stay." He informed, concealing his desire to stay with Spock just a little bit longer with the other truth that didn't seem quite as importance. "I'm just trying to protect you."

…Maybe it was a little important.

Winona would chop off both their heads if Jim let Spock escape without her properly speaking to him. He didn't need her approval per se, except he would not be able to get an inch of work done if she continued to pester about this person that drove her son to the slumps.

He trusted her enough to not attack him.

"I sensed a variety of emotions in her presence," Spock said as if delicately giving bad news. As if Jim didn't know. "Her resentment is the most distinguishable."

"You act like it's not subject to change."

"Your optimism never ceases to surprise me." There was a soft enticement to his comment instead of the intended crtiticalness. It was something Spock seemed to be gratified to hear again.

"I have to be optimistic." He murmured as he stood up in front of Spock, patting his cotton grey long-sleeve off its wrinkles. "It's the only thing keeping me going."

The computer soon announced his mother's return, Spock darting his head up immediately with a quizzical glance – probably stunned by the altered voice commands.

It was a necessary change, and Spock sympathy was so strong, Jim could feel those warm arms holding him again.

"And you must do whatever is possible so that you can …" Spock said with a lowered voice, pointedly referring to the voice command and the optimism, and whatever else he would soon discover.

Jim didn't mean for him to frown deeply with immediate understanding. "It wasn't supposed to be like this."

This was nothing like the memory, and in a way, it was another stolen opportunity. They had to work with what they were given, and that was without a great first impression.

Spock's nod was indication that he would put a great effort into it.

"Hey," Jim greeted right when the door swung open, revealing a refreshed woman. "I was just about to reheat the food."

Winona waved her hand dismissively, "Sit down. You don't need to worry about that." She stated, moving towards the table. She then pointed to Spock while keeping her eyes on the plates. She didn't look at him, but it was as if she could sense him, her conscious locked onto Spock's person, "And you, you're staying."

Jim cast Spock a knowing look.

"I intend to." Simply answered.

"Good." She hummed, placing everything into the oven, "With all the work you must be up to, I doubt you're eating just like this annoying fella here. You hungry?"

Normal people didn't eat at this time. Before Jim could intervene for Spock's sake, Spock took it into his own hands as they both made their way closer.

"Famished."

Jim's brain creaked, his gears taking a break from the overuse. 'What?' He mouthed off behind his mother's back.

Spock didn't pay Jim any mind; moving forward to open a cupboard where Jim placed his tea bags. The action was of someone that belonged here just as much.

"Your supply is an over excessive one, Jim." Spock voiced out the obvious, causing Jim's mom to shamelessly snicker next to him.

"Choose whatever you want." Jim mumbled, feeling the beginnings of a tag team forming. Although anything was better than complete and unavoidable awkwardness, this was a type of awkwardness he believed he could bear, for now.

Hopefully his luck would last indefinitely.

"Mr. Spock," She called to him with crossed arms and a smile that could attract anything. However, one had to remember that the smile was an attractant to anything that eventually got swatted.

Thinking that she would bring up something invasive, her curiosity sure to be burning her brain, all she asked was of Spock's opinion of lentil beans.

She was going to play this for a long time.

Sadistic.

Spock calmly responded as he added water to Jim's kettle, which was technically his, since he brought one here the moment he realized that he would be stuck here on random nights by Jim's request, "All forms of lentil beans are satisfactory."

"Keep in mind that I added a few things." She practically squeaked, excited to show off her work. "I became obsessed with this soup after someone taught me."

Winona's wink to Jim made it easy to discern that she was speaking of one of her former lovers. He had to give it to her. She at least took something from each of them in spirit, every experience never truly being a waste of her time.

Spock didn't get it, thankfully. "I trust your judgment."

"Perfect!" She clapped with the fluffy gloves she just put on, right before proceeding to take the food out with them. "Now grab yourself a plate. There's nothing better than a post-midnight meal."

Midnight passed long ago.

Spock complied, leaving the water and tea to boil. After he placed his plates and utensils on the table, beside Jim's seat, Jim looked up with a solemn gaze, the warmth rising as he smiled, extremely grateful. The serenity in the madness was something he saw himself getting lost in.

One could view this scene and think that this was their norm. Spock shot him languid look of understanding, placing his hand to give one squeeze to Jim's covered forearm.

The sensation was a little taste. It made Jim want to flip his arm and cradle Spock's hand in his palm. This body yearned to know how that felt like. This body didn't know like his mind did, creating a colossal of raging conflicts that needed to be tasered.

Once Spock returned back inside, he opened the fridge, most likely to retrieve the ginger. Jim was never out of them, always replacing them when he could. Spock used them mostly, so he when he realized that he bought it again out of habit, he cursed in his empty home.

He continued to watch Spock lean down and open one of the bottom doors to get it, seeing him pause and stare at the rest for the contents above in wonder.

"Shocking, right?" Winona exclaimed with both brows rising twice.

Jim wished in that moment that he hadn't eaten all the cheesecake. At least then, there would have been one thing inside that would look relatively normal.

Spock wasn't troubled at all … just – Jim didn't know. Was he touched that Jim continued the same diet, not out of obligation, but out of sincerity? Was this a sign that Jim assumed he would return back to his life with Spock? Or was he troubled that Jim could not move on?

"Are there any other changes that have taken place?" Spock asked with growing concern.

"Some things might return to the way they were. Over time, of course." Jim sucked in his bottom lip, leaning back in his seat. "Some things I prefer to stay as is."

Spock accepted the answer, leaving the topic for later. He closed the fridge door and began to slice pieces of the plant with the skillfulness that made Winona want to take a peek.

"How are you not cutting a finger?" She said with intrigue, oblivious to Jim's tremble at the thought, "I wonder how fast you can make a meal."

Spock slid his hand across the cutting board and tossed the pieces in the water. "Depends on the intricacy of the supposed meal." He then took to damping a small cloth and patting, not swiping his hands.

Quickly enough, all three of them were seated on the table with their individually chosen portions in front of them.

The smell of the tea and soup swam in the air, creating a soothing environment. The buzz that soon erupted from Jim's thigh then caused Winona to narrow her eyes, her temperament altering ever so slowly by the noise. Communicators or any other devices weren't meant to be near the table. It was a sacred rule even on her worst days. Jim made a mental note to read it later.

Soon after, once Spock took to standing up to check on the kettle, his comm rang as well. Spock and Jim exchanged a worried glance right then, making Winona give in and say that it was okay.

Instantly, both of them whipped out their devices. For Jim, the Dhars responded to his previous message, saying that they would prefer to meet tomorrow as well. For Spock on the other hand …

Well shit.

"Phenomenal." Winona pinched the bridge of her nose after Spock placed his comm on the table, showing exactly what he just received.

It was a picture.

"You have an alert of yourself?" Jim expressed aloud.

"There is one in place for all my devices. That has always been the case." The underlying _'I'm the son of an Ambassador,'_ didn't go unmissed. "Never cared for it, although there were a few occasions when it has been invaluable to me."

And this was one of those times.

"You gotta get rid of that, Spock." It wasn't healthy.

"In due time." Spock said apologetically, "It seems my efforts have come short. I endeavored to avoid them to the best of my ability. I did not take into consideration the ones that decided to conceal themselves behind the bushes."

This was a private area. So far, this place had proven to be a great one in terms of privacy. This was exactly what he desired when he chose this division. Chances were that his far off neighbors desired the same.

Now he brought along these parasites.

Even if it were an innocent picture of Spock passing the gate, it would be everywhere tomorrow. The irony didn't pass them. Spock had gone through that gate an innumerable amount of times. His hovercraft was part of the registry of those accessible to enter.

Not once did this become a bother.

After one enormous bite, Winona swallowed, "Animals."

"It's not your fault." Jim reassured Spock, whom was keeping his calm remarkably as he poured the tea into each of their cups. "As far as I know, we'll give them a million pictures to take." He gleamed before taking a bite of his own. The picture wasn't incriminating. No one was insinuating a thing, and for all he cared, they could, because in Jim's utopia, it was only a matter of time.

It wasn't long before the peace shattered again.

**#-##-#-##-#-##-#**

**Ignoring my satisfaction, it would've been great if you both listened to me for once and stopped meeting up at ungodly hours at Jim's place.**

**Not that you two ever listen.**

**\- LM**

**#-##-#-##-#-##-#**

McCoy probably had an alert, or someone that had one notified him.

In the middle of thought, Jim's device was snatched from Winona the moment Jim and Spock placed their comms back down with displeased faces.

She gave Spock one look to give him the chance to put his away or she would take it too. Spock heeded her warning and did as he was told.

"Sorry, but I thought it best to address the elephant in the room." She spoke as she moved Jim's device away.

Jim groaned as he took another bite, quenching the hunger he'd been long denying.

"Welcome back, Mr. Spock." Winona rested her pointy chin on her knuckles and predatorily smiled.

Spock took a moment to respond. He wasn't off the hook. "Pleasure." He answered wisely when the Spock Jim knew would have repeated the same query out of spite.

"Now mind explaining your intentions here?"

Jim could die. He could die right here and all would be fine. "I don't think that's a good - "

"It is the least I can do." Spock interjected, "Your apprehension is one that deserves to be addressed, Ms. Davis."

God, she hated that title. It was always 'Winona' with her, and yet she didn't inform Spock of this. She was really putting on a show.

"Your son and I have agreed to combine our efforts."

"That part's clear." She replied with a cluck of her tongue.

"If you would allow me to continue," He interrupted politely enough, "We also agreed that without the proper assurances, it would be wise to avoid distractions."

She stared for a couple of seconds, and then took to picking up her tea instead of answering, boring her eyes right into Spock.

Jim could feel it from across her, and he wasn't her intended target.

"We're on foreign territory," Jim said, his eyes scrapped Spock's dwindling confidence, "We don't want to turn the wheels on anything that could be permanent."

"So you guys are just going to play friends?" She scoffed, circling the top of her cup with her index finger, "Is this some twisted form of prolonged foreplay?"

The vibrant green on Spock's neck was a pigment that could challenge the trees.

"He's someone I would walk into any battlefield in." Jim said as a matter of fact, giving his mother one smile, indicating that he wanted her to be nice, "That hasn't changed."

"Then you two better get those assurances, and make it damn quick." Winona ordered, "You better win."

Jim gulped.

With a heavy sigh, Winona nodded. "I'll trust you because he does. Lord knows my son is ever forgiving. But remember this," She inched forward to point at Spock. "The moment I think you're not worthy of it, I won't shy away from letting you know."

Spock posture became more relaxed, "I expect nothing less."

"Alright then." She picked up her cup again.

What an incredibly confusing woman. If Jim had trouble analyzing her 'till this day, he only wondered how Spock was enduring this. Even as someone who had experience around the most illogical of humans, nothing could match this situation.

"Good tea." She complimented as if their conversation never took place.

Spock picked up his spoon, not sparing the opportunity to glance back at Jim again, this time not hiding his total bewilderment.

**.**

**.**

**.**

"That was very …" Jim patted his chest, not used to the cold wind of the outdoors, "Eventful." He finished with a cough that could have been confused for a laugh.

With Winona inside, Jim took to saying his farewells from out here. If anyone could take a photo, they could – it's not like either were in a compromising position.

The childish part of him wanted to give them a picture of the century.

"The perplexity of her behavior remains untouched."

"Yeah."

"Little did I know that it was a genetic characteristic – " Spock didn't get the opportunity to finish because of the impact of Jim's punch near his shoulder.

"Shut up," Jim feigned insult, enjoying the view of Spock's stupefaction, "When you're around someone for so long, you pick up a few things."

"So I have experienced."

And wasn't that the truth.

"Listen," Jim pulled back his hand, trying not to think too deeply into Spock's admission, "I have this meeting tomorrow." He paused, taking in the changing colors of the sky, "Well, technically it's in a few hours. I'll send you the details. I need to get you up to speed and vice-versa."

He could hear McCoy chanting _'Kum Ba Yah'_ in the background.

Truthfully, he didn't want to stand here long. It gave him this illogical sense of fear that shouldn't, that had no right to be there.

Spock lifted a brow, "I have already received them." He informed, tilting his head questionably.

Jim had no idea what Spock meant by that. "What do you mean _'again'?_ You have no idea what I'm talking about."

"I believe I do." Spock simply replied, showing his comm to Jim once the desired page was selected.

It contained everything from the Dhar's American destination; to the time they were supposed to meet, all along with a little message from Franklin Mason, who Jim only saw a few times through a screen.

Spock sensed Jim's trouble, hesitantly stepping closer, his demeanor changing to one of dread. It was a good deduction too, since Jim could only see red. "Were you not made aware of this?"

"No." He tried to keep his voice calm, not trying to give off the idea that he was angry with Spock. He would never displace his anger like that. Instead, he concentrated on the pull of Spock's tempting scent and closeness. "No, I wasn't."

**#-##-#-##-#-##-#**

**Welcome aboard, Mr. Spock.**

**\- FM**

**#-##-#-##-#-##-#**


	68. POST SIM - PART TWENTY SEVEN

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, another one! *smashes cup like i'm thor*  
> Welcome to the 'Chaotic Good'.
> 
> Song: Parra For Cuva by Champa (feat. Monsoonsiren)  
> Warning: ... ugh, so much. Nothing violent or triggering though. 
> 
> ~X

** POST SIM - PART TWENTY SEVEN  
**

 

Sickness was a tricky thing. It may have disappeared time to time, except all it did was remain dormant. It never fully left his body. Jim probably couldn't remember perfect health if he tried. Sickness remained there, waiting to strike, and today was the day it decided to make its reintroduction with each heave above the toilet.

Jim wouldn't drive today.

He couldn't.

But he couldn't ask Spock for a ride neither, not when he had some business to settle before Spock could arrive to the destination. In his book, there was a lot to handle before he could think of placing Spock in the same room as those hungry dragons.

In the end, a taxi and the black hoodie it was.

**.**

**.**

**.**

Once back to the building, the assistant/receptionist/make-up artist or whatever, yanked out his earphones and halted in his rapid typing. Normally, Kieran wouldn't pay much attention to Jim, usually knowing of their appointments beforehand. However, this time, Kieran took the initiative of jumping up from his seat and calling to Jim in urgency.

Kieran must have opened his third eye and noticed Jim's blackening aura. Regardless, his pestering didn't work, because Jim rudely walked past the double doors without making his announcement known, interrupting the heated conversation that was taking place between the two Dhars inside.

"I had only one rule." He summoned the energy to deliver this fervid statement. His voice became a worthy enough weapon for the dragons take a step back with a mountain-shaking growl.

"So did we." Gregory moved away from his father with a sneer, immediately being ordered to shut up by the raise of Edmond's hand. Like a good son, he kept quiet as Edmond smiled to Jim.

It wasn't a genuine one.

"Before you become angry – "

"You purposefully crossed me!" Jim cut in, hearing Kieran peep and scatter away from behind him, shutting the doors with a clang.

"There's no point in wasting time. Mr. Spock's participation became inevitable right after his actions. As fantastic as it was, I'm afraid we're now on edge."

Gregory used the top of a chair to lean on, his weight on his palms, "We don't like being on edge."

"And I can't have him making his own announcements and appearances that could hinder us in any way. We must work together." Edmond Dhar provided his argument with no emotion, just the ones he made up to appear human.

"Oh, please." Jim scoffed. "That was supposed to be my own initiative. Whether I bring him today or a year from now, you weren't supposed to intervene."

"Apologies, Mr. Kirk."

"Apologies don't matter. It's the principle." They were willing to go behind Jim's back and that infuriated him. "You tell your guinea pig, Mason, that if he ever comes in contact with Mr. Spock again without my express permission – "

"Mr. Spock is an adult." Gregory opined from his far off seat, swaying his fingers in thought. "If anything, I'm very eager to make his acquaintance. I heard he had a flare for the dramatics. How could we possibly ignore that?"

Edmond was no longer the target in Jim's eyes, viewing Gregory as someone that needed to grasp the severity of this. It was as if the man never received a reprimand in his life, everything always going his way.

"Perhaps I should leave." Jim declared, fixing up his shirt and making a turn towards the door, "Maybe never come back. Let's see how you deal then." Besides, it wasn't like he needed them anymore … at least he hoped.

Regardless, he wouldn't show them that.

"You would incriminate yourself within a day without us." Gregory shouted behind him, ever so confidently

"I'm a diplomat!" Jim darted back to the younger Dhar. "And the one thing I do know more than anything is to give people what they want. Do not underestimate my ability to rile up a storm if need be."

Edmond sighed deeply and wiped his face, "Children, children – we're on the same team here."

Jim pointed to Edmond, controlled vexation exuding from his very pores. "Spock was _off_ limits."

"He's arriving soon enough." Gregory said, Edmond dissatisfied by it.

"Are you being deliberately obtuse?!" Jim patted his temples twice, wondering how such a person could be this unsympathetic. He was a robot.

"Stop antagonizing our client, Gregory." Edmond jibed once, making known that it was final. "Apologies, Captain. I have full faith that you can create a storm, however I will inform you that I have seen very few that weren't lifted off by a tornado of their own creation. It would be in your best interest to remain with us, considering that we've just gathered more intel that would be of great use to you. We are a team. Please, we meant no harm by it. "

Jim stopped in his step and filled lungs, closing his eyes in thought. He never intended to walk out. Just like Edmond said, it was best to combine their efforts, however, it was imperative that Jim assert his position. He had to make them understand that he would leave if necessary.

"Trust us to never leave our boundaries again."

Edmond added right when Jim heard Kieran speak outside of the double doors. Spock arrived.

"Then let's see if this intel is worth it," Jim nudged his head up, moving the door open so that Spock could enter. Kieran took one look at Jim and turned back on his heel.

Poor kid.

"Elaborate on it for me then." He said before he smiled to Spock, concealing all his previous anger. "Spock, meet Edmond and Gregory Dhar." He motioned to each one as they said their names. It was redundant since most probably knew, but he did anyways.

Spock cast them each a blanck inscrutable look, "Greetings,"

Without warning to Jim, both Dhars lifted their hands and formed the ta'al as they said their greetings.

In a way, it made sense after Jim put his thoughts in order. Edmond might have been a private civilian, but he wasn't one his whole life. It made sense that he also taught his son to properly greet other Federation species'.

"Do continue, gentlemen." Spock said indicating that he'd overheard something, if not a large portion. "I insist." He added, walking to one side of the table with Jim alongside him, appearing to have been in this room everyday prior, owning the space with incredible ease.

Jim took his seat and played with the wheels in the bottom as he enclosed his palms.

"I'm sure you know why we've contacted you."

"You intend to utilize my resources." Spock answered, "Keep in mind that they are not mine to use. All I can do is pass on your intentions in regards to them."

Thoroughly intrigued, Gregory nodded with an evil satisfaction, "And what would you say about you?"

"Only if my Captain and I agree." Spock replied immediately, casting Jim one look of affirmation, "It would be a great benefit to you to not displease him."

"So we've learned." Edmond stated as he lifted his PADD and slid his hand across it, moving the visual onto the big screen at the end of the elongated table. The quality and third-dimensional effects were almost similar to the ones in Starfleet HQ.

"We've uncovered a lot of progress that I doubt will be made public anytime soon." Edmond tsked. "It's a good thing we work in public service." He mischievously added, waving his hands to twirl a document and scroll through the text at a steady pace.

Jim scanned his eyes over the content briefly and concluded that this wasn't addressed to them. None of them were supposed to see this.

This was addressed to Admiral Komack from President Chen, head of Tsinghua University. It provided Starfleet courses and created eight to eleven percent of each graduating Academy class, the most out of all Starfleet influenced institutions all over the world.

"You have impermissibly accessed the Admiral's terminal." Spock revealed, disturbed with what he saw.

"And his PADD, and his communicator." Edmond didn't appear to have a care in the world, "Wish I could have gotten more, but they're smart to keep any portion of their private life on paper."

"You would resort to blackmail?" Spock inquired, his intense curiosity radiating off him.

"Yes."

"You could potentially face severe punishments for what you have revealed to us alone."

"Mr. Spock, if that were the case, I'd have been imprisoned before my son's conception."

Gregory did a subtle roll to his eyes, "We don't hack -."

"But your friends do." Jim completed for him, "Mason maybe?"

"Mason is good for a lot of things, but computers aren't one of them." Edmond shrugged. "Back to the point, President Chen – "

"Is expressing his growing worry in regards to the program and his students, which have been very adamant in their hesitation as of late." Spock paraphrased after blinking once, ending the small trance he was in from taking in all that information with exceptional speed, "The pressure is building, and he believes that he will not be able to withstand it, hence the withdrawal of his support."

The nature of the document was thrilling and too good to be true.

"We wondered what could have taken place to lead to such a decision." Edmond cracked his knuckles.

"That's in the document." Jim reminded.

"There's always more to the picture." Edmond replied, "Consider it the new Your Life Tonight scoop." He then announced, sliding the document to the right.

Emotionless dragons they were, "You're working with Celine Varra?"

"Who isn't?" Gregory hummed, "We have sources and we're her source. It's a harmonious circle."

If anything, they were dealers, but Jim kept his mouth shut, watching the little twitch to Spock's eye.

Edmond ignored their stunned expressions and waved his hand up, getting rid of the document all together and replacing it with multiple images, forming into a high definition _gif_ set.

Spock's brow went peak high as the image sharpened, revealing a President Chen fixing his cuffs, looking around his area and the suited men around him as they walked.

Along beside him was a classically dressed woman with raven shining heels, cat eyes that could cut steel and a smile that could hypnotize the craziest of souls.

"Interesting crew you men have. They are ruthless, strong and from your reactions, I will discern that they are also very surprising."

"Very." Jim hummed his agreement, processing this information with difficulty.

Spock was clutching to reality, wondering how something like this could happen without his knowing, probably thinking the same thing Jim was. Someone would be in trouble, "She never informed me of her plans."

"Whatever she did, it worked." Edmond remarked, "Don't worry, we're the only ones that know, so she is not at risk to herself."

Lieutenant Uhura flew in and saved the day. Her secret mission was completed without a hint of stress on that immaculate face, dressed to impress and looking to belong perfectly in the exuberant setting of flowers with the vibrant colors that rivaled the memory of Spock's garden.

What would Jim do without her?

Edmond grinned at the progress, "You see - my guinea pig has a knack for photography."

Spock pointed straight at the images, "On President Chen's private property?"

Gregory inched towards it and shrugged. "I'd assume so." He said like he just noticed, and that it was of little to no importance to him.

By the time Spock glanced to Jim, it was shared between them that these two had no qualms with working outside of the legal boundaries, let alone the one Jim set for them himself.

No wonder they were commonly sought out. Jim envisioned them burying a body if they had to.

They were chaotic.

"Enrollment season rates have begun at an all time low." Edmond continued, catching both their attention again, "I doubt they'd care but – "

"But this could have a detrimental effect on Starfleet as a whole in the next five years." Spock interjected, "In the next decade if the decline does not cease."

"It's a dwindle that they're trying to avoid."

"The answer to avoid it is rather simple." Jim did a roll of his eyes. Never in his life did he think that he would meet people more stubborn than him. All it took was one statement and they were pulling teeth with oiled fingers to avoid it.

Edmond didn't seem to agree, "Not if they think it's an appropriate sacrifice. What they're really going to worry about is the withdrawals and the officers that outright ignore their SIM appointments."

Jim exhaled, "And those just don't seem to stop."

"Warnings must have been delivered by now to those that have committed the latter." Spock added.

"We haven't gathered the data to conclude if they would decide to face penalty or withdraw with the rest. Some are just waiting it out." Edmond said, "They're in limbo until this thing gets settled."

Although this was good news, at least the best that he could hope for, for now, Jim contemplated on why the Dhars appeared unsatisfied, "From what you're saying, and from what I'm hearing, it seems that all we have to do is wait."

"No." Edmond slowly grinned, "We're going to pour mountains of salt on the wound."

"How?"

"There are a few things we can do before the Federation council hearing that Mr. Spock here has so diligently forced. Those complaints were composed perfectly, I'll add."

Jim could see the thoughts running in Spock's head. He didn't appear too happy by the compliment.

"The commendation should not solely belong to me."

Ah. So that was it.

"So since they're going to take heavy measure soon, we're going to become more public." Gregory announced with a clap. "Your face won't be exposed on some measly unplanned pictures from the bushes anymore."

"We are going to make you more relatable."

Spock's sigh was a heavy one. He went further back into his chair and frowned, "I am a product of a Vulcan and human. The belief that I will ever become relatable is a deluded one."

The Dhars squinted at him in befuddlement, "Not you. That's not your responsibility."

Jim could hear the underlying ' _Duh'_

"You're the son of a high esteemed diplomat. No one expects to you to be relatable. But Kirk however …"

Oh jeez.

"Why're you always in uniform?"

"I'm in my classic hoodie." Jim shot back, motioning his hands over his person.

"For the first time in days. Almost every picture of you out there is in one of those things."

Jim never thought much of it. Granted, in the beginning, it was a new thing to adapt to, but now it was no different than skin. "I just am."

"Go back to civilian clothing. Any more appearances will be in those as well, like last time. Even Mr. Spock is sporting normal attire." Edmond smiled approvingly, "It leans towards the formal side, but that's to be expected."

The center image was then replaced of one with Jim standing in the corner of a coffee shop. There were prominent features that aided Jim to pinpoint when this picture was taken.

Being significantly paler, sporting a shorter cut and hitting a troubling BMI, it became evident that this was taken prior to the shit storm that was coming his way.

"Where'd you get that?" It looked to have been taken by some far off table. It wouldn't have been weird, but Jim was alone that day.

"The kinds of things online are plenty."

Gregory chuckled at his father's comment, possibly being an inside joke of sorts. "Now why are you buying a cup of coffee that's worth four?" He addressed Jim.

"I wanted coffee?" Why was that put into question? Honestly, Jim didn't care about spending when it came to food. Other things perhaps, and he had learned to manage the credits. He was always exceptional when it came to managing his finances, however the drastic change in income sparked some bad habits, hence his more rigorous work-out regime. Plus, he had to gain weight then.

And honestly, he loved the idea of being attracted to something delectable, then thinking _'Hey, I don't have to walk past it. I could get it.'_

As if in sync with his thoughts, more pictures continued to flicker of Jim buying more and more objects, making him appear like some shopaholic when he was just updating his closet and getting accessories to turn his empty house into a home. They were investments - not a waste of his funds. 

"Normal people moderate their shopping. Normal people go out and get things delivered." Gregory muttered into the palm he used to cover a portion of his tired face. "I've had clients that exclusively ordered everything down to their socks, and I had to force them to go out and walk into a store for the first time. I had to make them appear human, when in actuality, they were nothing but posh aristocratic wannabees. But you, you've done this plenty, and thus, need to stop. In heaven, Mr. Kirk, stop shopping."

"You're a farm boy," Edmond continued in wonder after taking in the evidence of excessive shopping errands plastered before him, like each time looking at it was the first time,  "There's nothing relatable about this. Your hovercraft, for example – "

Jim wasn't going to listen to that one, "I've been eyeing that beauty since before I became a cadet." He retorted with a louder voice, "Why wouldn't I get it the moment I could?"

The Dhars simultaneously sighed, "For someone that doesn't want to seem like a celebrity, you certainly have no qualms in traveling like one."

There was no fighting this. Jim had no idea he looked _this_ bad.

"I'll … I'll get a rental and hide the other in the garage." He caved with fallen shoulders.

"Great. Now your house … You don't have a live-in significant other, nor children – "

"I couldn't handle the noise – " Damn, even his mother commented on its size. It only had two bedrooms.

… Not that the empty space for an office or the intended gym meant to be of any significance. Two rooms. Not four.

"What was wrong with your old place? Really?"

Spock knew this. McCoy knew this. Anyone with sense knew this, but these men didn't know Jim in his heart. They didn't really understand what troubled him at night.

It wasn't Jim's fault that his new home was the only place that was a decent distance from where he worked, and that it was secured. Security and silence wasn't a crime.

"Sometimes, one has no choice but to remove themselves from an environment that has morphed into a constant reminder of a presence that has long since been removed." Spock vaguely put out there, "It was a decision made prior to our acquaintance, hence giving you no right to neither question nor judge his actions." His tone was stern, like a troubled grandmother that ordered someone to have more sympathy for fuck's sake.

And this was coming from Spock.

Jim didn't know if Spock was more aware of the emotional inconsideration, especially with these men, or if he only became aware of it when it included Jim in any way. Regardless, Jim appreciated how the Dhars exhaled and complied without a fight.

"Moving on. Don't touch your hair."

As if possessed, Jim automatically buried his fingers in his hair, touching the growing strands. "I have to do something with it soon."

"We have our reasons." Gregory didn't care for Jim's thought. "It's not too long to be disorderly and considered unkempt, but too short wouldn't work either. That screams military."

Thinking that Spock would intervene, he surprisingly didn't. He was unashamedly agreeable. Perhaps it was because their idea was logical. Little things mattered after all.

Or maybe … Spock preferred it for aesthetic reasons. The thought made Jim more conscious of his appearance and that was a challenging thing to begin with, simply because he barely cared in the SIM. Hygiene was maintained, but he was a walking caveman if he wanted to be brutally honest.

Spock first kissed him as one.

"Next, we took the liberty of creating yourself some social media." Edmond announced, sliding up a profile page with a flattering picture of Jim caught off guard during his cadet days. "Everyone in your demographic has one. It's odd you don't."

"It's because I live in space." Jim bitterly muttered.

"Irrelevant." Gregory added. "Learn to use a hashtag."

_A hash what??_

"And this picture? I'm Captain." He blurted out, still glued to the picture of him in his cadet rubies. He also wished to mention that he didn't favor social media. People were cruel. The only cruel people Jim wanted to know of were the ones close enough to punch.

"Acknowledge your roots. Show that you're proud of them, Mr. Kirk. You weren't a cadet all that long ago after all."

"It's like when a lady hides her ages. No one takes her seriously after that."

"I'll send you the account."

Jim's comm buzzed immediately – it was done so fast that he was sort of surprised.

"Does it look silly, Spock?" Luckily, he could count on Spock to tell him the truth.

"If this is a reference to the commonly spoken phenomena of the ' _bad angle'_ – "

Spock wasn't going to help him with this one. "You know what, never mind." Jim slunk into his seat, disappointed that Spock quickly found a way out of his question.

"Your profile picture and description are appropriate and will surely entice many to gravitate towards it." Spock said at last, keeping his comment neutral.

Jim would seriously do whatever he could to make Spock iterate all his toe-curling endearments, because this wasn't doing this for him.

"Next thing on the list is this." A list soon appeared on the screen, "An actual list." Edmond humorously pointed out.

"That's a list of public parks and cafes." Jim mentioned as he read on.

"It's best that if you want to show your face, go for a run, sit down and work, these are optimal places you choose."

"Why?"

Spock interjected, "The Resva Memorial Park held a gathering today. This destination in particular is two miles away. Are you sure that is safe? It would leave my Captain vulnerable to denunciation. Whereas I am not, our goal was for him to appear neutral."

My Captain, my Captain – whereas before it lost its effect and made Jim tremble with anger, it was refreshing to hear it again simply because the title wasn't used for dismissiveness or mockery.

He heard it how it's meant to be heard, and Jim found himself wanting to ask Spock to repeat it.

"These places are not too close as to not create a decent excuse. We want the people there to find you. From there, you'll know what to say. It should be easy to know when and where they'll be. I will keep you posted, but you can also just ask that young ensign of yours."

That could have been anyone.

However, deep in Jim's heart, he knew it wasn't and it was soon confirmed with tangible evidence glowing above the table.

Chekov, a young man Jim hasn't seen in weeks prior to his SIM, was in the center of a growing group. Jim barely recognized him, his extravagant curls now replaced by a buzz cut, his softened features now eliminated for a grin full of mischief. He looked to have surpassed his biological age, troubled with years of anguish.

A transformation like that must not have come easy.

"Spock, what was Ensign Chekov's SIM duration again?"

"With a completed grade of PASS, Ensign Chekov has participated in a four day long evaluation, which equated to fifty SIM days."

Jim wished that it were a straight formula of sorts, but it varied for each individual … and that sucked. "Right …"

"A very active individual." Gregory boasted like Chekov was his own, "You'd think he was PRO-SIM with what we've gathered, but apparently that's not the case. This picture and recent actions speak for itself."

God, they were stalking him too.

"You're wrong. He never cared for it." Chekov was the one that outright denied SIM duties, not even apologetic about it.

"We found evidence that he endeavored to become a SIM operative during the first stages of the ' _alterations_.'" Gregory air quoted the last word with all the sarcasm he could muster.

"You're kidding." It was a lie. It had to be. Spock didn't appear to have known about this either. "If he wanted to be included, I could have recommended him. It wouldn't make sense for him to try to do something like that without telling me. None of this makes sense." He took a much-needed breath, "Sort it out for me because I'm clearly lost here."

"Two of his Academy friends were chosen. With the general hype, it makes sense. He probably wished to have something to pass the time. He certainly had the credentials for such a position."

"Something must have significantly altered his opinion." Spock pondered, his pupils running across the edge of the table and back in thought, trying to answer his own growing questions.

But they never ended. They only metastasized.

Sometimes, the answers were just simple, and Edmond pointed that right out. "He probably received the brutal truth from one of those peers." He offered as a suggestion.

No. That was too simple for Jim to accept, "Operatives do not speak of operative duties outside of their assigned SIM rooms."

If that simple fundamental were in jeopardy, Jim would have to rethink his situation and the mental safety of his finalized crew.

"In this case, we should just be thankful." Gregory sympathized with a pursed lower lip. "He shouldn't be a pole's length near that monstrosity."

"Now, I'm going to need an explanation on another thing …" Edmond shut off the screens, then placed his palms on the table. "Dr. M'Benga has applied a petition to release himself from his contract. Were you aware of this?"

"I mustn't have received it yet." Jim confirmed after he mentally assessed what was in his terminal prior to barging in here, blinded by fury, "No … I would know if he wanted to do that."

This knowledge was enough to make Jim question if he obtained any control. M'Benga was valued and irreplaceable. If this were anywhere near true, then McCoy would have told them. Right?

Too bad the Dhars looked skeptical.

"They are attempting to see if you would willingly conceal this information." Spock apprised Jim of their intentions without looking away from them.

"Don't waste my time testing me out." He sighed, rubbing his temples, feeling the urge to rest his head on Spock's shoulder and just sleep.

Spock breathed in, and addressed them after he erased his disapproval of their game, "Have you discovered as to why Dr. M'Benga would do something so uncharacteristic of him?"

"This has to be a mistake." Jim mumbled to himself, feeling a headache coming on, ready to rival all the ones in the past.

Edmond sat back down with a huff, "His basis is that he's questioning his position and stance in Starfleet. Should he be released, he will endeavor to leave Starfleet in its totality. "

"He would have advised me of these developments," Spock declared, his perturbation ringing through his words. It seemed that he doubted other things as well.

Jim had to agree with Spock. If anyone would know, it would be him.

"Of course he wouldn't tell you." The laugh Gregory let out was disturbing. "He's probably doing this _for_ you."

"Me?" The openness of Spock turning to Jim for some sort of explanation was a saddening one. Jim didn't have the answers he required unfortunately.

"Because he somehow got the impression that you wished to resign, Mr. Spock." Gregory added with a tilt to his head, "Remember? He's invested in you. Perhaps he believes it to be a great disservice for his work to continue on with someone else."

The curve of Spock's upper lip could have been easily mistaken for a snarl. It probably was, for he was completely disgusted, "I never asked this of him."

"It's what friends do." Gregory explained, "It seems you have plenty. Lt. Grayensha included. Seeing as I couldn't find any forms of contact between you and former Ensign S'kuul, I assume it was her doing to include him in the complaints. Good touch."

"Valued participants are vital for delicate situations." Spock responded, still trying to grasp all the information he'd been given.

The Dhars glanced at them, both of them enclosing their palms. Their spitting similarities were eerie to watch.

"It seems we've covered most of it today. Once we set up another public appearance for either of you, you will be notified. We will reach out to Lt. Grayensha soon enough as well."

Jim grew thankful that he didn't have any other interviews to do for now. He couldn't endure any more press prep. He'd already been through enough in Starfleet, let alone these dragons.

"Is there anything else you'd like to make us aware of?" Edmond asked with that same smile.

Spock and him answered in the negative.

Besides, he had other pressing duties regarding his ship for the day, and he wished for Spock to accompany him. They could split the list of duties in the meantime, all while completing them together, of course.

Truthfully, he didn't want to let Spock out of his sights. Not if he could help it.

Both Spock and him arose, and made their way to the door, leading to the exit. Hopefully Kieran wouldn't scatter away again.

"Hey, Spock? "

Spock turned around, both their backs facing the Dhars this time.

"Yes, Jim?" He answered quietly, hopeful in his voice.

Jim earnestly smiled at that, scratching the back of his neck, "I – "

He never finished his sentence. It barely had the chance to begin. His tongue became a useless muscle, frozen in time. The shock was delivered after his ears caught bits of an audio that could shake any officer.

_ [I didn't mean it like that –  _

_ And forget about the fact that when I finally gain his trust, his friendship, I'm stuck in a situation where I don't even know how we'll look at each other again!] _

Ever so slowly, Jim stared at Spock, silently signaling with his bogged eyes, begging the man to not turn around. _'Please don't turn around'_ , he internally pled. He could already see himself on the visual that he knew was playing behind him.

What in the world was happening?

Despite his pleas, Spock never listened, rendering Jim's efforts in vain.

_Don't!_

Death visited the Universe, sharing information of its recent attacks towards Jim, laughing and congratulating the other. There was more in store for them, and as the little human he was, he would have to wait.

He would have to take it and take it. Because in the end, most of these acidic moments had a flourishing foundation to build on, and those were of his own careless actions.

The message was clear.

Do better - act better, then things will become better … only if _**they**_ allowed it.

 _[Is that the purpose of the SIM – ruining command teams? Do you have any idea what we did_?

_ Censor mode was enabled … _

_ And how many times?! _

_ It's somewhere in here ...] _

Jim never had to ask – he simply deduced that Spock never placed himself in an exposing position. Spock never would, especially in his POST-SIM interview, despite the securities promised. He couldn't bring it up, because this was the moment he would have to share in return - A moment in which he lost total control.

_ [You have to look for it because you can't count it on one hand. Now - why, why was it enabled? _

_ Because … well – _

_ Say it. _

_ … uhhh] _

This explained Gregory's anger in the beginning. This explained the Dhars' actions. How could they trust Jim if he hid this from them? They had only one rule.

And by hell, Spock was stripped of all color, eyes stapled to the display of Jim rising from his seat in his grey garments, exposing his teeth to the prey for slaughter when it was merely an innocent Lieutenant.

_ [Because we fucked! We fucking fucked!] _

Spock's mouth parted, covering it quickly with the back of his hand. The SIM interviews were under the same lock and key, under the same security shields as the SIM footage itself.

What Spock and Jim both witnessed was the possible downfall of their lives and their credibility. If the Dhars got their hands on this, who else could? And could it be used for nefarious means?

Jim heard the evil cackles in his mind. The answer was yes, it very well could be.

Edmond muted the interview and spun in his seat impassively, "Sit back down, gentlemen."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hit 300K+ today!!!!!  
> YAAAAAYYYY!  
> If someone told me THE SIM would be THIS long, I would have cackled in their faces for eternity. 
> 
> Normal people would have split it into parts.  
> What difference does that make though anyways?  
> Ciao!!
> 
> ~X


	69. POST SIM - PART TWENTY SEVEN (2)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another update!
> 
> Song: Saving Light (feat. HALIENE) by Gareth Emery & Standerwick  
> Warning: Gregory. Hate him all you want guys. 
> 
> ~X

** POST SIM - PART TWENTY SEVEN (2)  
**

 

 _'You are not to blame,'_ Spock whispered as Jim crumbled into himself, letting his weight fall back into his seat, deaf to whatever was taking place around him.

 _'This will be corrected, Jim. I assure you, I will fix this.'_ Spock promised with every fiber of his being.

 

There was no point in concealing this. There truly never was, except Jim required time. How in the world was he supposed to explain something in which he had complications understanding himself? He should have said something today. He should have said something when he knew nothing, all to avoid the criminal he looked to be now.

His time to makeup for it was over. So Jim decided to sit a little closer and to allow Spock's grip to remain on his knee to cease his shaking under the table, and if he was becoming receptive to Spock's comfort and voice, then the Dhars could sue him.

He didn't care anymore - Not even when Edmond and Gregory cringed in his sights.

 

"You both listen here and you listen good." One would expect Gregory to shout, but he didn't. Instead, he delivered his scolding with silent disappointment, each word becoming a twist in the gut. "The only way we succeed, the only way we get out of this thing and continue on with our careers without becoming some laughing stock, is for you to listen when we say listen."

 

Jim was always too paranoid of what they would do with that information if he offered it. This was never his truth to speak of, not when so many things continued to remain fragile. Everything he did was with Spock in mind.

The Universe offered him no time to recuperate, snickering as Jim attempted to put himself together for the millionth time.

 

"You came to us for help, and although we are smiling every day trying to squash this, grateful we have you both on board, you spit on the one rule we made expressively known to you. When we asked for SIM summaries, it was so you could include everything of importance. Whereas we'd normally take, we asked, because despite our antics, we are human and we care." It was a statement that actually sounded genuine, "SIM files belong to you and you only, but now … I think we have to be more severe with our actions."

 

Jim wouldn't.

He couldn't.

 

"Your request is an impossible one. You will never receive the footage today or any other days proceeding." Spock echoed his thoughts, leaving no room for argument or demand. The two could try, but it would be in vain. "Do eliminate the thought."

"Fine." Gregory twitched, "I won't fight you on that, but let's be honest. I should, because I'm finding it hard to trust you gentlemen right now. We can't afford risks like this. Not when we're so close. So, so, close."

God, and didn't Jim know it. If he lost their trust again, they would take the matters into their own hands and assess all risks themselves without them.

"What you have here won't be perceived as romantic, or as a fairy-tale or beautiful, but hey - " Both of Gregory's hands lifted up as if he surrendered, "For all I know, you may want to be the men that people see, wondering which position you liked best, or remember your 'O' faces, since it can very well be plastered on millions of screens and burned on their psyche – played on a loop, again and again and again – "

 

Jim sat catatonic, surprised that he wasn't covering his ears in the face of such impending oblivion. This wasn't how it was supposed to be. He wanted people to respect them – his close friends to celebrate them – he wanted to prance around with a permanent gleam next to Spock.

There was a tugging ribbon, dragging him further and further away from what he wished to achieve. With each pull, he wondered if the light in the end wasn't a manifestation of some impossible dream. Each sparkle was dimmer than the one before it.

Maybe the dream didn't belong to him. Hell, maybe Jim would never have the privilege to use it, to see it flourish and to sleep in it. This reality check descended so that he could finally see it.

It belonged to the Lightrunner, not Captain Kirk.

 

Spock normally would have said something like _'Mr. Dhar, your fears are misplaced.'_ Instead, he appeared stricken, speechless, eyes shifting back and forth. He must have been visualizing their execrable, bleak and desolate future.

Jim could imagine it too. He'd thought of nothing but that from the painful moment Spock yanked his arm away from Jim, like he burned, like he was some stranger, like agony would have been better company than him.

 

"We are jeopardized," Gregory then braced his palms on the table, his glare unfaltering, "And we are compromised, and if we have not come across this information on our own, it would have been propelled on our faces. We would have been rendered reactive instead of proactive, and I will not let that happen." He then pointed towards the elongated windows that viewed the city in its beautiful state, a kingdom the housed the cruelest of the cruel, "These fiends that you call _Admirals_ would become ten steps ahead of us, and we may run, we may run forever, but we would always be running - Always running to find a way to save ourselves from this perdition. All because you both felt it best to conceal the nature of your relationship."

The predicament they were speaking of wasn't on the perimeter of sane. The Admirals never used such a cruel and gruesome tactic last time. Otherwise he would have prepared himself for this. He would have made it so that they weren't compromised. This was impossible.

"You're not actually insinuating – "

"You know exactly well what I'm insinuating. No wonder they're not scared. They're sitting on a gold mine and can make it a weapon that will end everything!"

"Calm down, son." Edmond looked to have aged another decade in the last ten minutes, not bothered by Gregory's words, but by the sheer volume that it grew to be after the intended calm failed.

"Am I the only one that understands that we could potentially be dealing with a _sex_ scandal?!" He looked to have wanted to kick something, anything.

Spock nudged his head up as if electrified, narrowing his eyes at the man, returning to the conversation at hand with deep-rooted antipathy, "The magnitude of this is understood greatly, Mr. Dhar." He said in a way that was so clearly a _'you can shut up now'._

"Do you have any idea how many are disgusted by the idea of intraspecific relationships? You should know more than anyone, Mr. Spock." The younger Dhar blew out a gust of air against a fallen strand, and then turned straight to Jim. "And you - Are you that fooled by your metro centric environments? Just because you can walk into a local bar and have things like Andorian Ale available to you, doesn't mean there aren't degenerates out there that have never seen an alien, let alone fathoming the idea of screwing one."

 

Jim couldn't answer, too stunned. He could still remember Gigi and Scarface between them as they punched and cut without hesitation. He vividly remembered the disgust and shock once they realized the brightening link that existed between him and Spock. The maniacal laughter and delight of when they discovered that it could be tampered with was a much easier expression to remember than the hatred he saw prior.

He'd heard of that hate as a kid. He never entertained it much, eventually obtaining his own views when he grew up. Naturally, he began to surround himself with people that thought the same, but not enough unfortunately.

Sure, aliens were cool. They had their own homes, languages, culture, skills and looks. One could easily become friends with them.

Some were too enchanting to ignore, hence people shamelessly getting their fill of fantasy filled sexual encounters. Such experiences weren't looked down upon, mostly bragged of, if anything. It wasn't evil. Jim partook in those himself.

However, there were very few that said, _"I could marry one. I can love one more than my own beating heart."_

This was a reminder he could have done without.

 

Thankfully, Spock answered for Jim in the tension filled room, "This behavior is unbefitting of you, Mr. Dhar. You have been speaking in hypotheticals, and for someone that has an astounding reputation; I would assume that you would view this as a challenge. A solution is all we can dedicate our efforts to. Now, you must have initiated to remove whatever could remain – "

"We're on it. Your assigned operatives can't so much as think without our knowing either." Gregory shook his head, "But as a realist, Mr. Spock, you have to see that we could be too late."

"Then I will begin my efforts to eliminate whatever could prove detrimental to us."

"I don't exactly know of your skills, so forgive my doubt. Go near that trap, do anything wrong, and they'll know we know. They'll react. No, we're dealing with this."

Edmond's nod was a firm agreement as well.

 _'Then fix it!'_ Jim wanted to yell to the high heavens _. 'Today!'_

"Exposing us would expose them in the process." Spock was trying so hard to believe that goodness still existed, "Your prediction is flawed. The response would be a counteractive one. There has never been any record of leaked SIM footage that the SIM participants have not released of their own volition."

Edmond covered his face with his palm. It was hard to know what the man was thinking.

Nevertheless, Gregory voiced it aloud for his father, "And who do you think shielded them in the past? Who protected the ones that spoke out? … If only you knew what they had on Jackson. Ooh, they hated her and were ready to bury her for what she started."

Not once did Jim consider this. Some things were never supposed to be considered in a sane rule of thought.

"Wouldn't put such immoral actions beneath them – for some of it to spontaneously _leak_." Gregory continued, "They would put any of those operatives on the slab to achieve their goal."

 

Logic.

Considering everything that has been done, this shouldn't have been too far fetched of a possibility. Maybe Jim never thought of this because it was too terrifying, bone shaking and disturbing to the core. He normally assessed all the scenarios that could occur in the aftermath of his actions.

 

"And in case you believe to know of the fire that will rain down on you - You haven't the _faintest_ idea."

 

He should have said something to make this man stop. His body was no different than the prison he became trapped in multiple times before. All he needed to experience next was the stench of rotting meat … but it never came.

Being frozen from fear was an actual thing. Jim knew of that, except there was no illness to blame it on this time.

 

"This would breach your morals clause. You would lose your ship. No matter how many lives you've saved, all credibility would cease to exist because of this, and they would have every ground to."

 

Spock bobbed his head up, looking to have wanted to curse the man before him. He took the threat as if it was directed specifically towards him. To Spock, Jim had a legacy and he would do whatever it took to make certain of it.

But to Jim, this revelation made him feel sick inside. Everything Spock worked for would not only be for naught, but this could be the very thing that would prevent Spock from being around his people, having interactions with them … or his father. Jim doubted that there would be much support after this.

 

"And here's what else you didn't consider - _you_ would lose Mr. Spock." The younger Dhar declared to Jim, "There's not a single couple that could survive this scrutiny. Whatever you two have here wouldn't last a week, a month at most."

 

Fuck, Jim was exhausted of hearing people make assumptions about them. He already had enough of it from McCoy and Spock himself. Why did it always come to one resenting the other some random day? Why were they always viewed to only tolerate the other?

It wasn't like they decided to tolerate the other until someone better came along. It was junk. It was absolute garbage.

 

Except, on the other side of the spectrum, this train of thought had its merits, and that was the intruding reality. Pressure could ruin the most stable of relationships.

It basically did before.

 

"He may kiss and hug you and say nothing is wrong, but come time, this would burn you. He was leaving for China just recently, so whatever this is," Gregory motioned to both of them with disdain, "It's _weak_ , and doesn't have a chance of surviving."

Spock sprung up from his seat and leaned forward across the table to meet Gregory's eyes, "Do not ever speak in my place or perceive to know of my thoughts – "

"It's my job to think for people."

"And do you always find enjoyment in your interminable denigration?"

"I'm not the enemy!"

"Your attitude is an unusual one for an ally."

 

The arguments between Gregory and Spock went on and on, and Jim felt the room spinning around him. The dizziness reminded him that he hasn't taken his medication at all lately. He should have done so, especially after having a session with his toilet on his knees this morning.

His head was pounding to the beat of the yells from each man, and he was sitting here, immobile and absent – only seeing his future and Spock's ruin.

Spock could have returned and placed all his efforts onto New Vulcan. He could have found someone. He could have been happy, and it was all under threat because of Jim.

Everything hurt.

 _'Stress, but not too much stress',_ he iterated, because this instance was the perfect example of too much.

 

"Life is cruel, it's evil and it's merciless. You think they wouldn't go that low? They would leak something and blame one of the operatives, marking it off as a necessary casualty."

"Your point is noted. _Again_." Spock practically sneered, "All we can offer is our trust, but you will not continue to rummage around our personal activity. You will never acquire what we have not willingly provided."

Edmond then offered them a chance, "Then give us something."

 

What. Are. You. Willing. To. Give. Us. – These words were spoken in the same siren-like manner that sucked Jim into this in the beginning.

The Dhars had the interviews. There really wasn't much to hide. This was a test, so Jim provided the one thing he knew they saw.

 

"Spock and I are what you would consider the …," Jim cleared his throat, sickened by the idea that he would have to take another pill again. Spock's hand returned on his back, "We're labeled as the five percent."

It was a much easier thing to say, instead of - _'Hey, we ended the SIM on our own terms.'_

"Ding, ding!" Gregory mimicked a bell as he picked up his PADD, walking a healthy distance away from them.

Spock winced at the animated sound, "I will also add that we were wrongfully coerced into agreeing to certain conditions in light of what they have witnessed, regarding our relationship. Despite our PASS, we were forewarned that if we wished to keep it, along with our compatibility, we were to refrain from pursuing anything remotely close to what we have done." He admitted, "So no, I was not merely leaving because of my betrayal or trauma. I did so because they left me no choice. I could not foresee myself on another vessel."

"Admirable." Edmond nodded with an approving purse to his lips, "But stupid. You should have come to us earlier. Our job is to clear the debris from your paths. It's a dead rule they used to hurt you and we'll find out why. If it were so bad, your scores would have reflected that. Your history would have too."

"Or …" Gregory interjected, "You two became too much of a risk to ignore. A liability - A ticking time bomb. You were still left with the option of serving together. They just wanted to eliminate that risk."

 

Jim officially couldn't hear another word. It was already enough that he allowed them to pester on for this long. "Shut up." He commanded.

Gregory shut his lips and blinked, waiting for whatever Jim had to say.

"Just shut up," He repeated, "We're not some _scandal_. We're not a risk. You're demeaning everything just like they did, but all you’re missing is the papers. My God, just _shut up."_

He wanted to make certain that these men didn't feel the need to go behind their backs again, so he made the decision to give them something that they would know, without a doubt, that he and Spock meant business.

"We're more than what you guys think." Jim asserted, his irritation growing from Gregory's repulsive assumption. "This isn't something we decided to do, so that we could forget the world. He was as dear to me as he is now, so make no mistake, because over there – " There was no turning back from this, and by Spock's tender touch gravitating to his shoulder, and by the gentle approval he received, Jim knew that this was okay.

"Over there, Mr. Kirk?"

"… Over there, we finished our last round as husbands."

 

The clashing of a fallen, forgotten PADD was their only response.

**.**

**.**

**.**

Jim was grateful that Spock offered to take him home and stay with him, considering that they would have to return to the city in a few hours. He just really needed to get away and preferably sleep it off a little.

The ride back was a long and silent one. It could have been a minute – it could have been twelve, and in light of that, it was still a long and silent one so far. All Jim could discern was that they were just beginning to reach the outskirts of the city.

The churning of his guts continued on without pause. The sensation was similar to something engraving its sharp claws into him. It didn't require Jim's permission, for it already owned him. It was wickedly playing in its own territory.

Thankfully, Spock was a smooth driver, and he also felt it best that they kept silent. There wasn't much to say, really. Perhaps when they reached their destination, they could try to talk it out.

It wasn't like their predicament was one they could have predicted. They never thought of it. It was unthinkable.

Now the unthinkable was chasing after him. They weren't even his familiar demons. They were his angels dressed in demonic sheets, dedicated to resting on his shoulders, shattering the bones underneath.

 

It was irreparably mutated.

 

To calm himself down, he would repeat the same one-sided conversation in his head. _'Nah, this wouldn't happen to you. Why you, out of everyone else? You're not that special.'_ He would then end it with a _'Don't flatter yourself, Jimmy-oh.'_

It was a humorous closing, sometimes succeeding in making Jim laugh in the middle of whatever task he was doing or conversation he was supposedly listening to.

It was a mantra that failed.

Instead, it made him want to expel whatever that enlarged hand was playing with in his body.

 

"Pull over." He said in a demanding tone, instantly feeling the hovercraft hiss down next to the trees, the lights from the craft flickering on the bark, illuminating its swirled patterns.

It was enough to make him dizzy again.

Jim searched around fast enough to conclude that there wasn't a soul around them, just the squirrels that slithered along the branches, watching him crouch down and grab for his throat.

The gargles, the stench of bile, the whines that followed didn't register in his head. All he felt was the weight on his back, disappearing then reappearing, as if …

Spock was patting him.

And the encircling rubbing that followed had a medicinal effect as Jim wiped his mouth, breathing through his nostrils and  his cleared throat.

The pain continued to pound, and once the weight disappeared again, he thought he whimpered. He had no idea if he did. He just felt the loss, and it suddenly became bigger than it was. He genuinely feared that it would never return.

Just as he turned around to seek it again for solace, he felt the cooling of water drizzling down his hand. As if on autopilot, he wiped his hand, gratified by the warmth radiating next to him again.

 

"I feel like I'm falling," He muttered as he settled on the grass, resting the back of his head on the bark of one of the trees. He crossed his legs, his head feeling too heavy for his neck.

Why was he always falling?

He could see a bare reflection of the moon, a beautiful sibling of the sun. From where he was, he could keep falling until the stars showed up, shrinking and shrinking. That was the best thing about falling, wasn't it?

He would be able to view entire galaxies in due time.

He could float on this tender pillow, a benevolent cloud brushing his skin for all of eternity, and he would be perfectly satisfied.

"Jim?"

A pleading whisper, and soon, the cloudy pillow was nowhere to be sensed, his skin naked of its comfort and support. He could only feel the bark snatching at his strands.

"Open your mouth."

Jim complied, extending out his tongue a little, the waterfall in his mouth being the very thing that was slowly bringing him back. He gurgled it and spit into the bushes.

With the second waterfall, he swallowed his fill. He blinked and turned away from the sky. Spock's stricken expression was of a man that felt fear in his core.

Rules and limits be damned, Jim felt Spock's fingers caressing his chin and envelop the side of his neck. Understanding of Spock's intentions, Jim rested into it again.

 

This, this was his undergird.

There was no cloud.

It was Spock.

 

"I'm sorry." He didn't know where to begin. His words felt useless in a quandary that was so much bigger than him. Spock must have felt the breaking of his soul, each crack the hammer descended upon him, relentless in its strength.

Spock's eyes flickered with settling defeat, "I wish I could remove your pain."

It was apparent that Spock temporarily forgot about their agreement. The natural urge to eliminate Jim's pain was stronger, and as his mother said, old habits died hard.

For such a task to succeed, Spock would have had to meld with him, instilling great effort, not able to simply complete the task without Jim's knowing. All their years together didn't equate to what they had achieved in the Warehouse. That was the pathetic truth.

Never did they have moments like this, skin on skin, let alone having one with each day, growing their connection so much that it changed them as people. Jim wanted to begin like this, never letting go, returning to what they were.

As endearing as Spock's wish was, the words made him miserable.

"What did I tell you about spoiling me?" He questioned with a rueful chuckle.

By that alone, Spock relaxed a bit, still crestfallen, "Never apologize for something we have both equally partaken in. Whatever may become of us, do remember that it will be dealt with accordingly."

"I could ruin you." Both knew that in reality, it wasn't Jim, but the situation at hand that could very well do this to Spock. In Jim's head, this translated into all being his fault in the end. None of them considered the rotting villainy that they were facing.

 

There were supposed to be rules to this war, and it turned out that war crimes were just going to have to be accepted, so that they could beat it.

Spock crossed his legs on the grass, his fingers caressing Jim ever so lightly, as if conflicted if he should press on or remove them completely, "You have already ruined me." He whispered, pressing his other hand on Jim's knee just as he did in the Dhars' office. "Allow me to venerate my ruining."

Without thought, Jim covered the hand over his neck and cheek and shut his eyes. He wanted to feel everything in its rarity, the bridge between them too stubborn to beat - too stubborn to shed an ounce of its crusted blackness.

The death of it was enough for Jim to wonder if his ship was worth it. He couldn't possibly continue on without a single beat. This little taste of soundless space was enough for him. He endured _enough_ , and it depleted him of everything. Just one measly beat could sustain him for however long was required of him.

One. Beat.

He held onto Spock's hand tighter, feeling Spock tremble underneath it. Jim opened his lids and saw Spock's doleful expression turn haunted, faced with the ghosts that fueled his perpetual dejection.

One day, and here they were. It made him question what they were doing. What did they possibly think they were playing with here? This wasn't one of their games.

"Then hold me," He needed it more than air, and whatever consequences came with it, he would accept it and deal with it later, "Please, Spock. I don't think I can – "

Strong arms wrapped around his weakened body, pulling him in tight until Jim's chin rested above Spock's shoulder. He clung on in return. Instead of the increasing wind, it was the lingering breath on his skin that caused a shudder.

The fond embrace was overdue, filled with their neglected longing. This was all he needed … even when the sky was tearing up above them, an atmosphere pierced by indefinable hues of lightning.

They could have disappeared then, simply turned to dust.

Instead, this is what they chose - a pillow they intended to float on forevermore. 

If love manifested itself into a physical form onto this planet, this would be it - Spock's healing embrace.


	70. POST SIM - PART TWENTY SEVEN (3)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm surprised I can even post an update :( My internet has been acting up & I'm in the middle of shopping for a new service.
> 
> Wish me luck with this mess. 
> 
> Warning: Jim's thoughts & excessive profanity.  
> Song: Outro by MUNA
> 
> ~X
> 
> PS - I'm looking around for a beta b/c I'll be cleaning this story from scratch (I'm not adding enough content to warrant a reread though)  
> \- If you know anyone that can help me, that would be fantastic! 
> 
> My email is still the same (xeroxiiva@gmail.com) 
> 
> *kisses*

** POST SIM - PART TWENTY SEVEN (3)  
**

 

One never escaped their SIM without something changing inside them. It could be that something was taken, stolen, yanked out of them with aggressive force. Or perhaps something was added, altering the way they used to look at the world, at their friends and loved ones.

Perhaps both of these things occurred, unapologetically stacked on top of the other, fighting for dominance. A winner would never be discovered, and the war would rage one until the host was placed into the ground. Maybe there would be a winner then, but it wouldn’t matter.

What was the point of a winner inside a rotting corpse?

 

Not everything was meant to be of disadvantage. For one, Jim never had a sense of an internal clock. He’d seen it. He’d heard of it. However, he never earned the skill. Sometimes one couldn’t learn what they had to unless they were forcibly thrown into a situation where the difference between learning and not learning was life and death.

Curling in a tub of his sealed restroom with each night made him expressively wary and aware through all the depths of his mind. He never could afford to waste daylight, hence knowing exactly when to wake up.

The awareness had a cost - REM sleep became a mere myth for this skill. 

With his awareness, he had to be ready to jump up if someone had the guts to take what he created for himself. He had to be immediately prepared to shoot and ask questions later. It was a concept he detested when life was somewhere near normal, always deeming the behavior as a barbaric one. He guessed that some forms …. not all of decent morality was for the privileged.

 

Over time, he had to remind himself that it wasn’t. It was an aspect of every living being, and that it was one’s choice to choose to appreciate and utilize it.

From then on, he kept in mind that he never had to shoot to kill. That was only for extreme cases when doubt was nonexistent, only sureness that it was either him or them.

 

Jim woke up in blackness, a silent dread creeping up on him as he felt the sheets of his bed crumble between his fingers. Something was inherently wrong.

He felt a climbing ache around his chest as he fisted his shirt, groaning because of this phantom pain. Without question or deliberation, he hurried off his bed and slammed the circular cyan luminescent figure.

The door instantly slid open, revealing a lit up hallway leading to the living room and a dark shadow that was similar to his height. It took a few blinks to notice that the presence belonged to Spock, whom had the gloomiest aura, and eyes that seemed to have held problems too heavy for the soul.

He yearned to remove all of Spock’s desolation at once. It didn’t belong there, for it was a curse to the universe. 

“Spock?”

The expression was then removed from Spock as he took a step back. He didn’t answer, merely lifting his gaze to Jim’s with concern.

“Are you aware that you are excessively perspiring?”

Instantly, Jim pressed the back of his hand on his forehead and felt the wetness trickling down. He also noticed that he was breathing hard.

“…Nightmare.”

With that false admission, Spock took to gripping Jim’s forearm, and yanking him inside the dark abyss of his room. For a brief moment, he wondered why Spock wasn’t telling the computer to turn on the light.

It was too dark.

With an _‘oomf’,_ Jim was forced to settle on the corner of his disarranged bed, hearing Spock shuffle through his room, like these were Spock’s belongings just as much as his.

He should have been irked from the invasion, but whom was he kidding? Each second near Spock erased anything that could possibly morph into annoyance. He just wanted to breathe Spock’s air.

A childish sentiment that could take him to nirvana if he allowed it.

 

“What’s the time, Spock?” He mumbled, instead of ‘ _What are you doing?_ ’

 

Instead of _‘Come here.’_

 

Instead of _‘I want your words.’_

 

Instead of _‘Touch me.’_

 

Spock didn’t answer, still rummaging through Jim’s personal washroom.

“Spock.” He called out again, his voice slightly raised. Knowing the ticking clock inside him, he didn’t have much time for this. Right when he decided to ask the computer to confirm the time, being too lazy to grab his comm and check from there, a heavy weight settled on his right. 

He turned to it, only for his head to be nudged up by a cloth.

A cloth.

A fucking cloth.

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fucking fair for Spock to have given him a taste, all to reduce him to only feeling the bare heat under this insulting fabric. He had an insatiable thirst for it to be Spock’s hand again, and the sudden precaution was enough for him to groan with irritation.

“McCoy has informed me that he provided you this medical tricorder for your personal use.”

And?

“I believe that you might be experiencing a fever.” Spock concluded, turning the blasted thing on, its lights flashing between them, no longer having their faces concealed by the darkness.

Spock’s worry was adamant as he rechecked its settings before putting it to use.

“I’m fine.” Jim said, hearing the beeps that would soon be more trustworthy than his own admission.

With the results on the display, Spock sighed, not in relief, but in disappointment of what he saw. He looked to Jim with that same ‘ _Do better._ ’ face. “Direct me to your medication.”

“Left shelf, third one on the right.” Jim responded, void of all usual suave.

With haste, Spock left his spot, taking to opening the small drawer that revealed all of Jim’s medications, including the ones McCoy recently delivered to him.

With each vial Spock picked up, he frowned deeply as he examined the contents inside, carefully swishing some of them near his ear. He counted the new pills next.

“With the dates marked, and with the recommended dosage for each medicine, I conclude that –“

Jim skipped a day or two.

Fucking shit.

Spock continued, airing out the scintillating mental math, “That there are two day’s worth of extra prescription as a whole.”

“I know.” 

“Explain your reasoning, Jim.” Spock then ordered, closing the drawer a little too hard. 

It was the one time Jim didn’t want to vicariously feel Spock’s touch through an object, “I forget sometimes – “

Wrong answer - “Forgetfulness is likely upon a new habit. This habit is not new to you, nor is it one you have ceased in the program either. In fact, your daily dosage and repercussions were more rigorous with Cardenas.” Spock interjected with knitted brows, “You do not forget, and you are using forgetfulness to conceal your blatant carelessness for your health.”

“Then I guess I’m still reckless, Spock.” He wanted to whine in the face of Spock’s disapproving glare. He had to remind himself that he couldn't be affected by that tone of voice anymore. “What more do you want me to say?”

“Say you will try.” Spock sincerely pled, leaning down on one knee in front Jim and very carefully dropping the accurate amount of medication in Jim’s palm. ”Once you have taken these, take a shower and prepare to make your leave. You informed me that there were important tasks for you to complete today.”

Jim simply complied, nodding his head.

Spock quirked a brow, tilting his head skeptically, “Are they still of importance, or do you wish to continue resting?”

The idea of taking the day off really scared him, and it must have showed on his face because Spock inched his head forward with blatant consternation. He shouldn’t have been doing things like that in Jim’s hazy moment.

“I require a response.” Spock slowly said. So slow, similar to how one would speak to a child.

“Rest isn’t an option.” He responded.

With a pat to his thighs, Spock rose up, “Very well then.” 

It only took a few strides for Spock to be right next to the button, and in those few strides, Jim felt the pang of that same deep phantom pains, his head ringing in response. There was no reason for it to exist, its presence unfitting. With being so close to Spock, it should have been completely eliminated.

But it didn’t.

It felt like a defect. 

“Spock, what’s the time?”

The request caused Spock to freeze in place. Without turning around, he answered, “1514.”

Shit. Dammit. Fuck. Christ.

“We were supposed to be on the road back by now.” He flung his head back with a sharp exhale, hoping that he could still complete the first objective on the list. It was the most important one. If he didn’t make it, he would have to try again and each day mattered.

Each day converted into a few miles away from sanity.

Spock faced him, his hands clasped behind his back then dropped again by his sides. The motions were atypical of him.

“Your mother left.” Spock replied, like that was an answer that somehow made sense. “She said she had an _appointment_.”’

 

Knowing Winona, it was most probably a date. It still didn’t explain Spock’s aberrant decision to keep away.

“Well _you_ could have woken me up, Spock.” Jim’s internal clock remained intact, clearly, except it wasn’t the best today. Four minutes late, with the added ten of chatting with Spock made him officially late. 

Spock flinched, taken aback by something unknown, “Your door was locked.”

And?

“I can’t believe I did that again.” Jim exasperated, getting up from his bed after chucking the medicine down his throat, too practiced to need water. “She keeps barging in here, wanting to watch movies and stuff. I swear it’s this new habit of hers." 

Perhaps Spock didn’t feel comfortable coming in here, which was insane. They weren’t strangers. “Next time, please just walk in. Or just tell her to wake me up.” He finished, pointing to the ceiling, indicating that he was speaking of the computer.

Within seconds Spock was in front of him, waving his hand back and forth. The random motions took too long to truly register, blinking in the face of it.

“What are you doing?” He was completely stammered.

“How many fingers am I holding up?”

 

It was a question Jim’s heard one too many times, “No. We’re not doing this.” He turned away from the offensive four fingers.

“Jim.” Spock didn’t bother fighting him on this, dropping his hand with the sigh of all sighs. “ _She_ is currently a he.” He firmly reminded, “Also, _he_ is no longer able to compute my commands.”

The pang increased tenfold, the pain ripping at him with realization. He merely blinked in his spot and didn’t formulate any sort of appropriate answer. That explained Spock waiting outside of his door like a neglected kitten.

Spock backed away with tightened lips, not expecting an answer either, “I will leave you to your cleansing. I am already prepared to debark, so whenever you are ready – “

 

“You want me to change it.” He discerned, plodding closer to his washroom and increasing the distance between them. He hoped to God that this acidic substance over his heart wasn’t a mere reflection of something stronger.

“I will not ask that of you.” Spock robotically answered with closed fists.

Jim turned back around, leaning on the side of the washroom door, watching Spock’s back. If it weren’t so much of an issue, Spock would have said so, especially since they were making an effort to improve their communication skills.

 

So instead of taking the higher road, something told him to do the opposite. He had to test this.

 

“Okay.”

 

How evil.

 

Spock’s profile turned stiff, his shoulders and arms forming perfect angles, whereas before there was a normal curve to it. Jim didn’t budge. He remained still even when Spock’s eyes met his, the disdain evident in the face of derision.

He gulped under the pressure of that stare. Spock appeared to have wanted to play this game, but within moments, he turned away with a sniff.

 

“The modification has become increasingly disturbing.”

 

Bingo.

 

“So I change it back?”

 

Spock cocked his head up, shutting his eyes. “Please.” It looked to have physically hurt to ask.

 

Jim felt it, “Consider it done.”

 

Spock’s escape from the room was no different than the scatter of a cat, and with that, the jabbing pain in his body left. He couldn’t inform Spock of this development.

 

Not yet.

 

**.**

**.**

**.**

> **_ SIMULATION ASSEMBLY CONT _ ** ’ ** _D._**
> 
> _ Congratulations! _
> 
> Our fourth meet-up was a success! Naturally, with it we are going to continue.  We're  _ highly anticipating this one and the ones subsequent to that. Your participation has been remarkable to say the least. _
> 
> _ Here is another notification so that we may know how many people would be interested in telling their stories in a group composed of graded officers. If interested, message below and we will get back to you with our destination and time, each one different than the other.  _
> 
> _ Verification of identity is still necessary. _
> 
> _ On another note - The recent narrative has been bombarded with sharing our experiences with our loved ones, with our friends and family, but not all of us have that privilege. For some of us, Starfleet is family. _
> 
> _ Join us.  _
> 
> _I'm sure you won_ ’ _t regret it!_
> 
> _ Sincerely,  _
> 
> _ Your Assembly Members: Ensign Jessica Birney, Ensign Pavel Andreievich Chekov, Lt. Commander Dr. Park Hyun Kim, Lt. Commander Yoe Weston, Commander Vick Alexander & Commander Linda Fey. _

 


	71. POST SIM - PART TWENTY SEVEN (4)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song: Fickle Game by Amber Run  
> Warning: Sorry.
> 
> Happy V-Day to those that care LMAO!!
> 
> ~X
> 
> PS - Still looking for that beta. *cries*

** POST SIM - PART TWENTY SEVEN (4)  
**

"This is a redundant task." Spock mumbled for the eleventh time as they walked through the crowded Academy halls, causing heads to turn in their direction in shock.

Had it really been that long since they were seen together?

 

If so, Jim didn't blame them. In their position, he'd be extra attentive too. 

It was odd that something so simple could feel so nostalgic - images breaking from the sides, white sleek walls replaced with grey metal ones, officers turning into kids and other private civilians.

 

"This is far from redundant, Mr. Spock." Jim said with a painted smile on his face, "We need to see things with our eyes. SIM scores be damned."

Spock didn't turn, keeping his sights ahead of him. "It categorized us as compatible." In that aspect, it wasn't faulty.

But Jim had to be sure.

"It also categorized The USS Xīwàng command team as compatible." He had heard around and from Gerald himself that they willingly chose to transfer. That had to imply to other ears that they were both compatible enough to stay if they so chose to be.

Spock must have concluded the same some time ago, because he didn't inquire further about it. He only inquired as to Jim's intentions, "Your point being?"

"If rumor proves correct, they're unable to remain in one room together." Jim pointed out with both brows skyrocketed high in a poor mimic of Spock's typical expression.

Spock wasn't amused. Shame. "There are other variables to consider."

"Which we can't tell unless we talk to them together." He urged on, walking a little faster to keep their step in sync.

"Which is why you wish to vet the incoming crewmembers…" Spock concluded, settled with the fact that he just proved Jim's point.

Jim drank in the success, "You get me, Spock."

The endearing statement didn't miss Spock, his step a little off for a second, "In light of that, I have taken the liberty of notifying four more graded potentials. At your current pace, you could not possibly interview the estimated one hundred and fifty new crewmembers."

"One hundred and fifty?" He didn't expect that many going in and out of his ship before leaving, "That's what I have to look forward to?"

This wasn't some cute little update. It wasn't a nice makeover. His ship would be stripped and flipped inside out, naked and vulnerable.

Spock stopped in his step, "There is a ninety-one percent chance for a crew of this enormity to face alterations of this magnitude." 

"Spock, I only have enough time for six today." He appreciated the sentiment. He really did, but he had to keep to his tasks or else he could possibly fall asleep in between.

He had to get coffee.

Or a straight shot of the right amount of caffeine that wouldn't stop his heart.

"And as such, I have made it my responsibility to complete the rest whilst you continue on your other obligations."

"Really?"

"Really."

 

That's how it was supposed to be wasn't it? He forgot that assistance was possible because he'd been doing this himself since he woke up.

This was a blatant reminder that before his SIM, he had a team.

Then again, he basically fired them all. Except, this wasn't about some SIM summaries - this was about other ship duties and Spock was willing to help him with this.

 

"What would I do without you?" The rhetorical query came off unsettling between them, causing Jim to furiously blink, "I'm sure you have other things to do." He said probably too fast, hoping it could cover up the awkward moment.

"Which will duly be taken care of." Spock answered, darting his eyes off at one of the Vulcan cadets passing them with a kind nod.

Or whatever a Vulcan would perceive to be a kind nod.

"You're still helping me with my first task." He reminded, making it known that he didn't want Spock to leave him now. And truthfully, he needed the help.

Spock took a step forward, and lowered his voice, his tongue being a muscle that held many secrets, "Which you are deliberately concealing from me."

He cleared his throat, and quickly searched around, "Last I checked, you were very receptive to surprises."

"Hardly." Before Spock could stick to the topic and pester on, he narrowed his eyes in question. Troubled by the change in features, Jim quickly took to turning around to seek out the source of it.

 

The officer waving to Spock was someone Jim's never seen before. If he did, he probably didn't pay attention long enough.

The way her cheeks flushed when she turned to Jim made him want to ask who the hell she was.

"Afternoon, Mr. Spock." She gleamed when she stopped in front of Spock, holding her folders in front of her chest. Her black bun was of perfect precision, her young wrinkles deepening with her smile.

Spock glanced at Jim, gesturing to him to begin his introduction. "Lieutenant, this is – "

She extended her hand, with an approachable aura that seemed almost false, like she was overworking her gears to come off this way. Another mask on campus, Jim guessed.

"Please, I know who you are." She laughed it off.

"I'm afraid I don't …" Jim awkwardly responded, shaking her hand.

The cluelessness didn't bother her in the least, "Call me Felicity."

"Lieutenant Felicity has obtained tenured position of this Academy for two academic years." Spock informed, "Speaking of which, you intend to transfer to South Africa." It sounded like a question, or a hint of hope that it was inaccurate information.

Two academic years - This explained why Jim had no idea who this woman was. He was too busy and barely kept up with the Academy changes. Either there was an impending terrorist attack, or Jim was puking, or there were more Enterprise duties to attend to.

Jim wondered how Spock kept up with the guest lectures, let alone keeping up with the gossip. It was all too much. Then again, Spock had no choice in the matter, splitting his time because he was a silent onlooker on the massive surge of Vulcan cadets. Jim bet he knew of all their names and scores.

Felicity sadly smiled, "Yeah. Word travels far in this place." She shook her head nervously. "America just isn't doing it for me anymore."

"Then why not return to your original post instead?" Spock inquired.

"Too boring. I've been working in China for one year anyhow. That's a year more than I need in that crowded place," She shrugged, "I like to get around."

The cough came naturally from Jim, and Felicity caught onto its naughty meaning without difficulty. Her cheeks flushed deeper rouge once she reevaluated her words, stammering in her spot. Spock quizzically looked between them, dissociating himself from the exchange once he acknowledged that it was pointless to discern.

"Well," She tightly smiled, darting her eyes past them, searching for her escape, "You've been so good to me, so I wanted to say farewell."

Spock received the sentiment with gratitude, "I hope you had a pleasant experience with us, Lieutenant."

"It was … eventful to say the least." She chuckled as if to hide a loud swallow, "Live long and prosper, Mr. Spock."

"I am certain that you will have a successful tenure." Spock genuinely responded, "Peace and long live, Ms. Felicity."

 

Felicity took her leave, and if there was a certain quickness in her step, Jim decided to ignore it.

That was until he discovered that he wasn't the only one to have noticed something either.

 

"That was rather peculiar." Spock commented once the coast was clear.

"How so?" Jim replied, making their way to his intended destination again. Hopefully they wouldn't be interrupted unlike last time. 

"She has actively avoided all forms of interaction with me on five occasions. Quite effectively, I will add."

There wasn't a hint of hurt in the admission, so Jim didn't know what to think of that.

"She said her farewells." Which obviously meant that she appreciated their acquaintanceship on some level.

"If that were not the case, she would have continued to avoid me."

"I'm sure you're imagining things." Jim suggested in an attempt to comfort Spock. Sadly, it was a weak one.

Spock wasn't accepting of the suggestion, but he did settle with it. "Perhaps."

And that was it for the matter. "C'mon, we gotta run. I have fourteen minutes left."

 

Spock kept his queries to himself, increasing the pace of his walk. Both of them didn't mean for the others around them to flutter away like frightened birds. However, Jim couldn't deny the satisfaction of all four individuals escaping the turbolift once the doors opened.

"Bottom floor." Jim commanded in the empty space after him and Spock turned around to face the shutting front. Considering where they were and how underground they were going to go, it would take some time.

Again, Spock raised his brow. "The simulation deck." He pointed out, his tone clipped and waiting for an answer that he hoped would come soon enough.

The lights switched from the blue that belonged to a new sky to the indigo of bruised skin. It was incredibly unsettling. This turbolift felt no different than a closet. The one he slept in was more comfortable than this.

"We're going to pay a visit to someone that needs a severe reality check." Jim offered up, fully conscious of Spock's turn and curious gaze.

He wouldn't have cared much, except the nonexistence of space between them made him fully aware of his piqued senses, so he kept all his concentration on the fluctuating shades in his eyesight.

He couldn't look away.

If he did, then it would be his sentencing.

"And seeing as you may know more than me, I'm going to need your help." He then added, suppressing a shudder, praying that Spock would turn away.

Soon.

If Spock continued on like this, he would eventually have to face it, which would result in him literally being in Spock's face. And that couldn't happen.

That wasn't allowed to happen.

He was a functioning adult.

"Your secrecy prohibited any attempts at preparation."

"Trust me," Jim forced a smile at that, "You'll know exactly what to say."

Spock hummed, his doubt having yet disappeared. He finally turned his head parallel to Jim's. This allowed Jim to just breathe.

His mother was right. ' _Prolonged foreplay_ ' wasn't an insult. It was the straight truth.

 

The door swished open, revealing a darkened corridor. The last time he was here was for his last Kobayashi Maru. Cadet Jim was dressed to impress, ready to execute his plans, unknowing of the events that would follow, altering his life forever.

This environment was cold to the touch, the walls vibrating from everything that was taking place inside each sealed door. Within each room, there were events that ranged from the simplest tactical mission to a titanic-like environment, forcing one to use every skill they had in their disposal.

There was a young man dressed in silvers sitting at the front post, unfazed by the earthquake shudders below them, too busy with whatever was on his PADD. In the middle of taking another bite of his brownie, he noticed Spock and Jim approaching him. He forcibly gulped, placing his PADD down a little too fast.

This one was in trouble.

"Hello, Ensign Eddy Koda." Jim tilted his head, showing a predatory smile when it should have been an outright growl. "Remember me?" He inched forward, the ensign taken aback, blinking persistently.

Koda was caught red-handed, his cartoon-like emerald eyes as wide as they could be, "Look, Captain – "

Jim stalked around the desk with his two fingers sliding on the edges of the glossy surface, and stood next to the seated ensign, making the consul his personal domain. He typed until he found what he was looking for. Within seconds, a message showed up in front of them, Spock stepping near the corner to observe it himself.

"How did you know?" Koda hesitantly asked, thinking Jim to be some magician when it was really simple. "I never logged it in." He added.

 

Oh, but he did. Everything had to be logged in. Except, not everything had to be logged in correctly; hence the creation of the alias ' _Ebenezer Scrooge_ ' which Jim would have never caught onto if not for the mentions of the ancient Christmas Carol story from the very man he was looking for.

If that humorous conversation about children stories never took place, Jim would have been blind to this. He guessed that being sick with an influx of visitors had its benefits.

"Mr. Koda," Jim began, showing his teeth again to which Koda clenched his own teeth with pure tension, "Mind explaining whom this notification is from?"

"It's from you…" He murmured.

"And what does it say?" He cheekily asked. If he was going to scare someone, he would have them admit to their crimes openly first.

"Lieutenant Hikaru Sulu is officially interdicted from accessing the simulation deck."

Spock squinted his eyes and directed them towards Jim, his confusion resurfacing once more. It merely took a few more seconds for Spock to get the picture once he read the message himself, sighing with resignation as he looked down on the ensign between them.

Jim was never against rebellion, as long as it had a good basis to stand upon, however this was simple rebellion for no beneficial reason.

This was just plain recklessness.

Jim wasn't finished yet, "And?"

Koda didn't need to glance at the scrolling text. Instead, he fisted his hands above his thighs, "It says that Mr. Sulu has exceeded the permitted monthly hours to utilize these rooms by his own volition."

"And why did I send this?"

"You didn't specify, sir."

"The point is rather obvious." Spock opined, his disgruntlement cracking through. "Refrain from exhibiting feigned ignorance, ensign. Guidelines and rules are not set for mere entertainment. There is a viable purpose to each one."

In Starfleet, they were supposed to be helping one another, not enabling one to implode.

Koda physically shrunk from Spock's reprimand, "The reason is that you're both concerned for his health."

"Then explain your reasoning on disobeying a direct order from your superior?" Spock inquired in disbelief, never one to care for useless insubordination.

"He seemed to have really needed it. What's one more session? It wasn't hurting anybody." Ensign Koda slunk his shoulders, scratching the perfectly formed waves of his hair, "I couldn't turn him away – "

Jim intervened, not interested in excuses, "You could have." He stated, noticing the jar of brownies again. The aroma was a familiar one, clearly homemade. It was positively delectable.

Spock looked to the source of the enticing scent, recognition in his eyes. It confirmed Jim's thoughts.

The moment McCoy took Jim off diet restrictions, Sulu flooded him with Ben's pastries, both of them earning multiple grunts of disapproval from the tired doctor.

"I don't care how nice he is. I don't care if he begs." Jim sneered, practically inching closer and pressing his weight on the consul. He was basically sitting on the desk at this point. "I don't care how many brownies he makes you. If you ever let him in here without my permission, I'll personally write you up."

With the last words, Koda's lips quivered, innocent in his demeanor. Jim was getting desperate, knowing that he had to cut off the unhealthy habit from the root. He thought he did just that. In fact, he was waiting for Sulu to seek him out with intense frustration.

Working around it, manipulating the system, that was something Jim didn't expect though.

"And since you're grade-less, there's still a chance you'll be sorted into my ship." He challenged whilst taking a brownie into his hand, "If that happened, you'd want it to be a pleasant experience, correct?" He asked right before taking a bite. It was indeed from Sulu.

"Yes." Koda nodded immediately. "Yes, sir."

"It's settled then!" He said after swallowing, smiling wide with closed lips. He delivered one pat on Koda's back, causing the man to jitter in his spot. "Let's go find Sulu, Spock." He moved away, giving the ensign his much-needed space and popping the rest of the small treat in his mouth.

 

"Sulu spoke of this Ebenezer Scrooge." Spock sadly admitted. "You remembered."

This was Demora's favorite villain, strictly because of the complexity and the beautiful redemption arc that took place afterwards. As a joke, Sulu declared that he would read it to Jim in his visits.

Subsequent to that day, Jim had bad days on more bad days. By the time he got better enough to see his crewmembers again, they never got around to it.

"Also," Spock poked at his thoughts again, "I believe to know the nature of his activities in there."

He had an idea, but he didn't want to be right. If Sulu didn't personally tell him of his SIM experience, Jim would have been clueless.

Once in front of the specified door, room 027 was able to open, thanks to Koda's override from his station.

 

What they were faced with was a whole room covered by the prickling surface of a thick forest, all seen from a bird's view. The screens tilted slightly to the right. Because of its enormous length and width, Jim felt to be moving with it.

A few steps inside, the door slid shut behind them, the glass joining the rest of the visuals. The effect was a dizzy one, unknowingly swaying a bit. Without the equipment keeping him grounded, he felt loose and misplaced. He was stopped by Spock's grip on his shoulders.

An adrenaline pitched scream accompanied the crashing sound of a descending object hitting the trees on the top and dipping to troubling heights. Sulu was up in center, eyes covered and hands motioning with the ones on the screen, his feet inside the metal floor attached shoes.

Thank fuck this wasn't the room used for the Kobayashi Maru, because they were all in an actual plane and in Jim's mind, no one could tell him any different.

"He is reaching critical heights. It is imperative that he stabilizes." Spock took a few urgent steps down the stairs, Jim following suit.

"Power back, power back." Sulu encouraged himself as he dived down uncontrollably.

Another shift of the room, and Jim almost fell down.

"C'mon. Don't fail me now. Not again." Sulu repeated his mantra, oblivious to the new company. "C'mon!"

"He lost hydraulics!" Jim yelled, knowing that with Sulu's depth into the program, he wouldn't be able to hear them.

"This is more intricate than mere hydraulics." Spock announced right when Sulu yanked back his hand and dumped the fuel, yelling with a deep raspy undertone.

Jim trembled in his spot, feeling his body fall below fifteen thousand feet. Instinct was to grab onto something or curl into himself so that he didn't overturn. This felt no different than when the Enterprise lost function of its artificial gravity.

Who in their right mind willingly returned to this nightmare? This scenario must have been altered so that it could be utilized as a testing simulation. SIM files weren't supposed to be used this way. Never.

Sulu took to pulling the manual lever and turning it, causing everything to shift once more.

They weren't going to make it.

Red alert.

For fuck's sake – Red Alert!

"Mayday, Mayday," Sulu said to himself, immersed in his SIM character, "This is still an emergency!"

Spock disquietingly searched around, rapidly filling in his lungs, managing to keep balance better than Jim, "He has to retract." He proclaimed, power-walking ahead to stop this catastrophe.

"Retract _what!_?" Jim questioned, covering his ears from the painful intensity of the decibels. There was no wind, and yet he felt to be in the edges of a storm. It was a stuffed down illusion. "Retract what, Spock!?"

"Everything!"

"I can make it!" Sulu shouted his exigent hopes as he turned the wheel, the scene flipping completely. The crazy man was maintaining altitude ... **upside down.**

Spock sprinted down, still keeping his balance in the tilting floors, and approached the consul.

"Do something!" Jim desperately shouted, seeing his impending death with each detail that became more sharpened by the closing distance. He could make out the branches and their colors, all able to count the lines etched on them.

Soon, Jim would be able to see the pebbles on the ground as he plummeted into it. He didn't want to be here in the end of this and wished he got here earlier.

Spock didn't require any more incentive. With a slam on the illuminating controls, the lifelike view and surrounding sounds vanished.

Jim felt the restoration of his equilibrium instantly. He wiped his face, seeing Spock from the corner of his eyes, clinging onto the small rectangular desk, slowly sinking to his knees in relief.

"I almost made it!" Sulu … well, Sulu wasn't the least bit pleased. He tore off some of his equipment with an aggravated yell and rubbed his overused eyes. "I almost did it. I almost saved them – "

"There is no one else present in this room, except you and us." Jim ran down the stable steps.

Sulu shifted his gaze between them, just now realizing where he was. "Kirk?" He slightly pouted, sympathetic to seeing Spock settled on the floor, "Spock?"

"I gave you a warning, Sulu."

Sulu carelessly rid himself of the remaining fragile devices around him, "You could have at least waited until I – "

"This is becoming desperate." Jim saw that Sulu was too far-gone.

Sulu was stricken aback, the comment taken to heart, "Listen – "

"No. You listen." He interjected, now an arms width away from Sulu. "This isn't normal."

"Since when was practice deemed abnormal?" The quip was a quick one, worthy of any smart-ass.

"Since you're so keen on grabbing this room whenever it's available." This was worse than he thought. He took a few steps back to grab his previously forgotten suitcase. Once he returned, he ignored Sulu's scrutinizing eyes as he took out his PADD, scrolling through it, "It says here that even after a filled day, you decided to take the last vacancy."

"Availability ends at 0300." Spock added with a hint of surprise, still not bothering to get up, still staring into the enlarged black screen in front of them. It could suck one in so easily. They were ants compared to it.

Sulu didn't know how to explain that one. He swallowed and furrowed his brows, fatigue plastered on his face. He was a little worse for wear.

"I did what I had to do so that you could go home." There were no more SIM duties left for Sulu. "I know I only get the surface of what you've been through – "

"I _know_ you understand." Sulu retorted, both his hands now clasped in front of his abdomen, trying to formulate some sort of power. "You can't act like you don't understand after what you've both been through. I don't need to save the world here, only the few that were with me. It's possible – "

"This way isn't a healthy one." Jim settled on saying, correct in his prediction that his exposed past would come back to him.

"It's not like I haven't been home at all."

"Sulu, we know where you live. The commute alone is three hours. You couldn't possibly – "

"Like you, I do what I have to. I don't appreciate being in the middle of some intervention." He bluntly replied. "I just left one. I don't need another."

Sulu should have seen this as Jim giving him a chance to rectify his actions. Jim didn't appreciate the way Sulu was misinterpreting things. From what Sulu said, his husband must have tried, must have pleaded for him to stay home. Sulu had a family, and he was chasing this unrealistic dream.

"Then I guess nothing we say will matter." He said after a resigning exhale, "I should instead have you undergo a psych eval for possible POST – SIM trauma."

Those were the very words every officer feared from their Captain, hence the intense secrecy and the incessant bullshit that never stopped encircling over the toxic fog.

"Jim." Spock warned, picking up on the palpable tension.

Sulu narrowed his eyes, his expression saying 'Y _ou wouldn_ ' _t._ '

A twisted part of Jim was seduced by the idea of saying ' _Yes. I would,_ ' all so that Sulu could take him seriously.

The challenging stares between them kept on until Spock arose from his fumbled position and approached them with calm. "Jim and I are aware of the circumstances you have endured, Sulu."

"Then you get why I have to fix it." Sulu's features contorted, "I have nothing to distract me. I can't go back to my life and think of how I'm such a wonderful pilot. You two depend on me. I have to get my head together so that I don't kill everyone up there."

Just like that, Jim returned back to the day Sulu first confided in him. That Sulu understood, or at least said that he knew of where the faults should lie. Except, this Sulu created this deranged idea and continued with it.

The confusion began, the blurring in the lines taking place.

Since Sulu could blame the SIM circumstances and add-ons, then that meant he could grasp that there were other elements in play. He only needed to be educated on the villainy they were dealing with.

Jim just had to direct that blame to where it rightfully belonged. Because no matter how much they all clung to the world they came from, some things weren't natural. Some things were ordered, appearing under the illusion of unlikely circumstances, or as Jim liked to call it, shitty luck.

"The reasoning behind your fear is acknowledged." Spock said, "However if you were to overcome this trepidation, it would be wiser to utilize something other than _this_."

Sulu shook his head, uninterested, "It has to be this."

Spock winced, the desperation before him too disturbing to process, "Failure is imminent no matter the differences in your actions."

"I'll find a way." Sulu declared as if it were the key to a good night sleep, a cleansed soul and eternal happiness.

"Perhaps you do not understand." Spock acrimoniously exclaimed, "You will never find the answers you seek because there are none. There is no explanation to the events you senselessly endeavor to conquer. Sometimes, unfortunate events occur simply because they are decreed. The fault does not lie with you."

It was the unvarnished truth. Jim found himself looking away from the intensity of Spock's emotion. He could still hear himself begging Spock to not open their room door, into the tunnel of sand coated Hell.

 

Don't, he shouted with tear stained cheeks.

Don't, he begged with each fracture of Spock's crumbling spirit.

Don't. Let's just be in ignorant bliss for a few moments. Please.

 

Sulu stepped back, covering his mouth with both his palms. "You're wrong. I just needed to avoid the island. I should have landed on water instead. If I couldn't save the ones on the plane, I should have saved the ones that lived, not led them to damnation on Earth. There were things that could have been done!" He surmised.

"I'm sorry." It took forever for Jim to believe the same. Spock and him even admitted inside the program that what happened to them wasn't right. It was evil. "He's not wrong."

"Sulu. Think of your previous actions. Inspection never revealed anything that was worth you nor the add-ons' concern. You oversaw it, and thus have done everything in your power to avoid the inevitable. The engines failed." Spock informed with sympathy, "Despite the direction you take each time, the island is always in your peripheral. It defies physics."

Sulu's liveliness and assured vigor was dying.

"It's called a glitch. I'm sure you've heard of it." Jim added, frowning. "Sometimes, things are done to further place us into the SIM. You were meant to not just crash, but crash _there_." Those add-ons weren't programmed to exist any further than their terminations.

"This is not, and never will be, a reflection of your exceptional skills." Spock sincerely added.

"As far as we're concerned, the only thing you've ever done is forgot a parking brake," Jim nodded in agreement, "Please believe that."

 

They anxiously waited for Sulu's response. He seemed to have checked out. This was nothing like Sulu's character, and this sight became increasingly troubling.

"Why would they…" Sulu's nostrils flared as he slowly twirled around in his spot with his eyes shut, taking in the dim lighted room with such ease. It became apparent that he was so used to this environment. One was supposed to have trouble walking around after a few minutes. Right when he stopped, he turned back to them, emptiness in his eyes. "They should have killed me."

Jim instinctively wanted to say ' _Don_ ' _t say that. You know better._ ' but there was no way he could see himself echoing such words if Spock and him reflected those exact sentiments before.

They should have died too.

Sulu clumsily sat on one of the stairs behind him and placed his palms over the sides of his face. It would take awhile for him to absorb the information. Spock and him made themselves at home and patiently waited.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those that didn't read the interlude, Felicity is one of the operatives assigned to Jim and Spock's SIM.  
> :P


	72. POST SIM - PART TWENTY SEVEN (5)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omg - I gained at least 15 new subscribers since my FF notice of deletion.  
> I'm so delighted that you could join me here and continue on this ride with me.  
> If you ever return to older chapters - I'm so happy to say that they're cleaned up (Still cleaning. Then again, when am I not? lol)
> 
> Song: Lonely by Yoe Mase  
> Warning: War, war, war - What is it good for?! ABSOLUTELY NOTHIN'! 
> 
> (There will be a hint of OOC Spock. That's not in my case, but for the few. This is my interpretation of how he would react in a tough situation like the one below.) 
> 
> ~X

** POST SIM - PART TWENTY SEVEN (5)  
**

 

"He's going back home." Jim blurted out, not fooled by the Spock's equanimity.

"And yet, my concerns are unabating."

Silently, they both trod to the conference rooms, stopping in front of room 03. Jim flamboyantly opened the doors, making a spectacle of himself as he revealed the crisp, elongated table. He ran to his spot at the end of the table and slammed his suitcase on the surface, instantly grabbed one of the chairs from the side so that he could roll it near his own. Satisfied with the arrangement, he placated his arms wide and grinned.

"Welcome to my humble abode!" He welcomed Spock with so much excitement, that the exclamation could be heard.

"You should obtain an office." Spock proclaimed, making his way to his seat after a quick look-around.

Jim's excitement vanished, "It's been a year since you've bothered me about that."

"And the belief still remains."

"This huge room is enough for fifty, and it's mine."

Spock wasn't impressed, "Not permanently."

"…So I rented it out." It didn't mean much to Jim anyways. An office was of little interest to him, "It'll be a while before anyone can use this room. Where did you think I was doing everything?"

Spock stood next to his seat and glanced ahead of the endless room, fastidious in his observations, "I never considered …"

"Just because I let you all in and out of my house doesn't mean that option is extended to all of Starfleet." He said, internally gleaming that Spock thought their previous arrangement to be somewhat normal … when it really, really wasn't. "Maybe you're experiencing a glitch, Spock." He joked.

"And this is an opinion from an individual that stated an office would be of no use to him because, and I quote ' _Who needs one when you have space?_ ' _-_ " The absurdity of it was broadcasted through each syllable. "Perhaps you are the one to have undergone this glitch."

"It was the truth, Spock." Jim took to falling into his seat and opening his suitcase, "Besides, if I really wanted an office, I could just take over yours. Consider it rent for turning into my roomy."

Spock never took to his seat, carefully walking a few steps along the side, "I recall correctly, you were the one that continuously requested for my company at the end of ninety two percent of my visitations. Subsequent to that, it progressed until it became a habit McCoy took notice of, especially since I would remain by your insistence after our summary reports – "

 

A simple joke wasn't supposed to take this turn. A simple joke wasn't suppose to have the capability of making Jim see himself in Spock's eyes in a way he wasn't ready to. He already did so before, and the experience could either be paralyzing or blissful. Spock's iteration of past events was like looking at that one outfit in his guest room, waiting for Spock to use it, to switch it and add another after Jim's requests.

He wished he could say that he was high half the time in those instances Spock spoke of, but he wasn't. He would coherently come to a decision within five minutes of Spock's visit. He stopped feeling guilty about it, and he didn't even remember when the shame of it ceased.

 

Jim cleared his throat, and moved his hand away from his PADD the moment he began to sync his chosen documents with Spock's hidden device. He looked up with a saddened smile, "It wasn't so bad."

Spock flickered his eyes over the table - a small curve showing on the side of his fluorescent lit profile, "No. _'Bad'_ is not how I would describe it at all."

The content exchange barely had a chance at life. Spock's features smoothed out stoically within seconds, and it tugged at Jim's heartstrings. The air died between them.

"I am questioning if my advice to Sulu was untruthful."

And there it was.

"Everything you said was true." Jim sternly replied, biting the inside of his cheek. It was the freakin' truth and no one could tell him otherwise. "We aren't to blame for what happened to us."

Doubt was a gloomy shadow over Spock, "Jim – "

Jim rested his elbow on the tabletop and covered his face, "I'm not ready for this – "

"I never will be if I prolong this any further." Spock admitted with a grimace, "Which would you prefer? Now or never?" He delivered the ultimatum, not so that he could somehow extract information from Jim, but so that he could save himself by not bottling it up. The thoughts were toxic fumes he didn't want to breathe in anymore.

"If I think of them … If I so much as say their names …" Shit, Jim would find himself locked away in a room, drowning in grief. He had to be productive. He had to make sure things worked out for the people he loved _here_.

Here, not there.

There was never a _there_. – At least not in a sense that should allow hindrance of any obligatory tasks here.

"For someone that clung onto memory so desperately, you are very keen on forgetting." Spock delivered the jibe effortlessly.

"That's not fair, Spock." He sharply exhaled, hiding that he'd just been punched in the gut.

"Then I will ask another query." Spock replied, approaching Jim again with those continued slow steps, "Do you ever intend to seek out our operatives?"

Oh, fuck.

He knew exactly why Spock asked. He knew enough to conclude that Spock loathed the idea, "One day, yeah." He truthfully answered, hearing the cracking frustrating growing around him in response. Like an idiot, he decided to get concrete evidence to explain this feeling, "Do you...?"

"I have no intention of knowing." Spock quickly answered. "Not today. Not ever." He finished, making Jim's speculations now unquestionable. If there was any curiosity left, it was infinitesimal.

If anything, Spock sounded repulsed by the idea. And like Jim's typical stupid self, he asked… again. He would always ask, too exhausted to speculate. Sad that he had to speculate when he used to have other resources at his disposal.

But there wasn't a beat to be felt or heard.

"And why is that?"

Spock appeared affected by the question, blinking as if to restart his gears, "Because I have already mourned. I do not wish to soften the loss or whatever inanity by seeking pieces of them in some mere strangers."

Jim was right again. He just had to make sure that Spock didn't believe that about him, "That's not why – "

"Then explain it to me." Spock cut him off, dropping his supplies on the table, "What could possibly be a sufficient reason for desiring such sheer _lunacy_?"

And that was it … Spock was questioning everything. He needed to make sure he wasn't crazy for feeling this way. That it was somehow Jim's wish in seeking out the operatives being crazier than this – to miss souls that never existed.

"Spock, look at me." He requested, keeping his eyes on Spock's avoiding gaze. He was chasing it, hoping Spock would see him. He needed Spock to see. "Look at me, or I'll come over there."

Spock complied and faced him, his brows knitted, all features tight. He was trying so hard to keep it in, tolerating those toxic fumes.

"When this whole thing dies down, I'm going to find out and know the names of everyone involved." Jim declared. Spock only inquired as to ' _Why?_ ' with his shifting dark pupils in response. "I need to look people in the eye. This brewing paranoia with each interaction isn't going to help me in the long term."

Jim thought it wasn't possible before, but Spock's authoritative demeanor disappeared, replaced by a man supported by brittle stings. With the simplest vibration, Spock could fall. "You are ashamed."

"I am." He confessed, "Not of you, but of what I did before I met you. Although I was very self-sufficient, I was just that. I was selfish, I stole, and I never cared to know of another's name, let alone help them. Everyone was an enemy. So, yes. I'm ashamed, Spock. I need to know."

He came to that conclusion long ago. Spock didn't deserve a politically correct answer like the one he offered Marisol.

"Do you intend to remove them from the finalized crew roster?"

"No." That was not his intention at all, "I just want to prove to them that I can care for them. That I am a worthy Captain."

It must have been the right answer, for Spock audibly swallowed, lifting his hand off the table. His disappointment was washed away with glazed grimness.

Jim didn't want to see that, except it was better than the former.

"If they witnessed your beginnings, then they must have witnessed your middle and end. Their opinions of you cannot be what you imagine." Spock said, pointing to Jim's overactive imagination and his overall views of despondence.

"All I can do is try." He shrugged, feeling a hint of fatigue inside him, threatening to come out. He just had a nap too. "If you ever come around, I'll offer those names to you, free of judgment."

It was supposed to be an attempt at humor, but still a concrete offer so that Spock could come to him if he truly changed his mind without mention of this conversation. Unfortunately, it became one that etched darkness onto them.

"And what have you observed that would warrant any shame from me?" Spock tilted his head, deeply troubled, "… What have you seen?"

Jim cast his eyes away and lifted his PADD to cover a portion of his face, "I can ask you the same thing." He coyly replied, when he should have said _'I'v_ _e seen things I never want to see again._ '

Spock never had the opportunity to interrogate any further, because the first knock took place, commencing a string of very disconcerting interviews.

**.**

**.**

**.**

_The Federation meant unity._

_Witnessing the unfortunate Terran bound Andorians, Ferengis, Betazoids, Tellarites,Vulcans and one of the last surviving Orion bare their teeth, ceasing Standard all-together to insult the other in their own tongues, teaming up with their own kind was a sight that seemed like the Federation died._

_In Spock's heart – The Federation was a figment of the past. They were all survivors now, unable to seek aid from their homes. A planet that they included in their lives turned on them, proving to be just as primitive as they were prior to First Contact._

_Betazoids and Vulcans spoke against the killings of humans, claiming that it was against their teachings. The enemy had to face justice without crassness and cruelty._

_However, each outcry was met with attack._

_There was no justice as their skin melted off their bones. There was no justice as their screams blended into the wind, swimming ashes permanently residing on somewhere other than their home world._

_Spock had to admit that as he heard these discussions, he could not find it in himself to contribute much, not providing a worthy argument. He wished to lose because inside, he was angry. To side with his people would be a lie._

_He hated them all._

_In the end, his opinion would have been an insignificant one. In everyone else's eyes, they were privileged, therefore had no right to speak of how the others reacted – of how they followed through with justice._

_Those against the killings could simply leave and hide, taking the risk as a simple sympathizer. The others could not, alien as alien can be._

 

_Countless – they've saved countless beings, strung up on trees, stakes, man made sticks, all awaiting execution. With each life they've saved, the idea of keeping the moral ground disintegrated. Each story a rescued individual informed them of, crumbled down their teachings and beliefs of what they wanted to be done, against what had to be done._

_Unity sparked through the idea of destruction. They would take over, becoming a terrifying force, the murderous lights above them. They were being slaughtered. Planets, languages, and history – all differences were of little significance. In the eyes of the enemy, they were all of the same dirty, undeserving flock._

_They retaliated, ultimately deciding that they would face punishment by their own courts if they were saved. They would seek redemption from their gods if they could pray again. They would celebrate or grieve with their loved ones about the actions they have committed. They would tell tales._

_That was the goal._

_They had to be alive to tell the tale._

 

_The evenings ended with more human deaths, each having a literal hand in each judgment._

_Spock almost reveled in their termination._

_Alone, he could not prevent these killings of the non-humans._

_Alone, he was nothing._

_Alone, he could not even save himself on occasion.  
_

_Alone, he was empty._

 

_The only feeling he conjured was of a climbing thrill from hearing a wheezing judgment leader, weeping for dear life – a life it somehow assumed it deserved over them._

_Each redundant prayer was met with cheer – the very few Vulcans no longer speaking against it, keeping quiet. Some Andorians used their empathy to instill satisfaction from it, some Betazoids closing off their senses. It was the cycle of the universe, they all said to him._

_Natural selection was taking place before them._

_Everything was ever changing._

_The stronger would come out victor, and they intended to be a part of it if they were going to spend the rest of their lives stuck here. This was logical, for there was no chance of rescue. The logical accepted this before the others, drinking their ale and speaking of the home they thought they would return to._

 

_Their differences were undeniable once together in the bottom floor of the building. They were unable to see things the same, let alone think the same._

_Pools of darkened crimson were sometimes observed with sadness – with emptiness. Some danced on it, would bathe in it if they could. Others applauded their peers as they ended another life. Others merely didn't care enough to react._

_They were different, yes, but this was their unity. This was what was keeping them together._

_Soon, rescue missions turned into outright hunts of whichever poor individual caught their eye. Even then, Spock couldn't muster enough regret to remind himself of whom he was._

_He was already falling, already half of himself. He didn't see the loss of delving further into the madness, enjoying it and believing their spitting righteousness._

_Except this never became his home. It never could be._

_He was alone, unable to meditate with his people, let alone request a mind-meld to discover if there was something irreversibly wrong with him._

_By the time he considered their assistance, he knew that he could never allow them near his mind. It was empty and broken, but it was his, and he had an obligation to care for its shattered state - Because although he was becoming more tainted, he was conscious of this change. The others simply began to blend in, taking in the terror with stoic expressions, saying nothing when the rest started their own judgments._

_How could he allow them near his mind if a child … a child meant nothing to them? An innocent boy, no doubt traumatized and clueless to his father's digressions, somehow stuck with the same gruesome fate._

 

_No. No one could assist him here._

_He could only save himself, and this was not the place to do it._

_If anything, this place would break into too many pieces, the hope of ever being put together again a simple joke. He soon made his decision, not surprised that he was accused of feeling sentiment because of his blood – his mother._

_If only his mother saw him now…_

_He feared the meeting enough to eradicate his yearning for a rescue._

_If he could, he would drop to his knees and kiss her feet. If she could meet his eyes, he would transfer all of his regret, his worthlessness, knowing of how undeserving of her love he became. He would understand if she wanted him to be nothing but a stain on her memory._

_He had to change. He had to remember himself. He had to believe in hope, a unity with justice, because he learned that unity strictly met through fear and absolute dominion was not one at all._

_It was unbounded terrorism under the cloak of impartiality._

_**.** _

_**.** _

_**.** _

_"This is the worst thing we've ever done." Anastasia rubbed her hands and sat on Markus' lap with a growl in her words. "Fuck!" She could have pulled out her loose hair from her raw aggravation, the circular rubs on her back doing nothing to calm her done._

_It was a comfort Spock almost envied. He might have if he weren't stuck in the worst dilemma since meeting the occupants that composed of this base._

_Markus simply held her, meeting Spock's eye with the look that stated that they all knew what had to be done._

 

_All of them had just escaped a physical brawl, ripping their limbs away from their own people. Warehouse 15 had delved into a civil war, dragging the center of their troubles and agony onto the cafeteria floor._

_Spock and council regained control of the situation to a minimal degree by some extra support, having enough strength to bring the prisoner to Spock's room._

_Spock agreed with Anastasia in that they should have done something outside of the base and taken their chances stuck in nightfall. If only they had enough time, they could have come to a collective decision without over a hundred peering eyes._

_If only that human did not reach consciousness, spouting his hateful rhetoric, calling them sympathizers as if it was an insult. Spock should have pinched the man sooner. Now the vermin was exposed before the base, and Spock was not confident if he could save him._

_The worst part was that he was not certain if he wanted to, feeling the old urge to throw the blindfolded man into the wolves and let him fend for himself until his inevitable demise._

 

_The chants outside started to become a cacophony, vibrating the walls around his room. Most of them were simple private civilians, this disaster being their first taste of horror. Spock should have been surprised at their blood lust, except with time, he wasn't. This was his mindset not long ago._

_Most of their loved ones did not die at the hands of the lights, but at the hands of their own people. It was a deep betrayal; dying by the hands of someone you assumed would help you for a betrayal, which was nothing but an ethical, right opinion. Wars were grey and this was the worst of the grey, screaming for the person, stranger, killer, and prisoner to come outside and meet the result of what people like him had caused._

_It spoke in council's truck, spouting about how many he has killed, as if this was some game and that each non-human was a tally mark. It sincerely thought that Markus and Anastasia would agree, oblivious to Spock's spinning rage._

_If it so much as moaned under the cloth around its mouth, Spock could smack him with all his strength, killing him instantly – a weak cranium against his knuckles._

 

_With each yell for death behind his door, Spock could recognize the voices, knowing very well that they were not suited to cope with participating in a murder. Their desperation seeped through, but this was a trance._

_It was something Spock couldn't respect no matter how much he desired to. This was not what their home was fueled on. He was a leader, and they entrusted him to keep them safe. He had to make certain that they would keep sane as well._

_Their life was not in immediate danger. This was not self-defense._

 

_Soon, Clayton was allowed access into the room, along with Terrence. Both irresponsibly brought Karim with them._

_"Leave us." Spock seethed through gritted teeth. He could not include Karim in this decision. Despite Karim's continued influence and presence, this was not his place._

_Karim deflated, his shoulders dropping and his eyes shining from the layered tears waiting to fall. His hair was disheveled from squeezing through the crowds, latching onto Terrence for safe path, "Ch…chief …"_

_Spock discovered that he was not able to take in such a broken expression._

_"Do it." Karim delivered those words, knowing exactly how much his suggestion meant to Spock. It sounded different, wrong, a tone not familiar in Karim's throat. He was shaking, understanding that he basically sentenced a man to death._

 

_Spock darted his eyes up, getting up from his seat and glared at Terrence. The young man swallowed in response. He knew exactly what he was doing._

_Terrence used his influence on Karim in order to influence Spock. It was a logical tactic, seeing as how Spock lately cut Terrence off before he spoke, their respect still there, but their opinions too different._

_Spock cut him off time and time again, because if he heard Terrence's reason in its entirety, he could believe it. This man saved him from the very people their prisoner represented._

_In Terrence's eyes, these people were beyond them._

_Except this was not about what they wanted. This was about what they represented, and what the base expected from them._

_Spock took out a gun from his worn out holster and placed it onto Karim's palms, immediately pointing to the unconscious man taking up space in the corner of Spock's room._

 

_The message was clear._

 

_Karim trembled in his spot, muted from the screams taking place from council. Spock never offered his weapon to Clayton prior to entering these doors. He kept it, and it was a wise decision on his part._

_"What the hell, Chief?!" Clayton exclaimed, bewildered, rubbing his bald head. "This isn't right."_

_"It appears to be the only decision in the base's perspective. I am the minority." Spock answered, firm in his words, stepping back from Karim's space with an audible scoff. "This is the only way, correct?"_

_"Shit – " Karim kept his eyes glued to the alien-like weapon, blind to Anastasia's desperate attempt to get the weapon back._

_"Give it, Karim." She demanded to deaf ears, extending her hands._

_Karim mumbled in his native tongue, vibrating from his feet to hair strands._

_"Shoot him." Spock ordered, causing the others to jump, Markus barging up on his feet to face Spock with squinted eyes. Spock simply told Markus to remove himself from his vicinity immediately, or he would be rendered unconscious like their prisoner._

_He did not require his telepathy to feel their shock, their complete confusion regarding his actions and spiteful words._

_They all knew Spock could fend off everyone in this room since there would only be one weapon in play – one that Spock was fast enough to retrieve if he had to._

_"You've gone mad!"_

_"Karim, don't listen to him."_

_"Karim?"_

_"Look at us, Karim!"_

_Spock watched them all try to tap into a teenager's mind, noticing that their attempts were becoming fruitless. He knew one thing that would work nonetheless. So he slowly trod towards the sleeping man, and bent down, settling his elbows on his knees._

 

_One slap on a cold cheek._

_Two slaps._

_A small moan._

_Perfect._

 

_Knowing that the rest directed his eyes at him, he showed them the rare sight of a growing smirk. "Perhaps you can make a decision when he is speaking, crushing the illusion that he is a simple sack of meat that you have the right to put down."_

_Karim winced when Spock delivered a rib-crushing kick to the prisoner's abdomen. A cry later, and he succeeded in his objective. Spock moved his fallen strands away from his eyes, and noticed that the man was now fully awake._

_Ripping off the cloth over the man's mouth, the reaction was just as he expected._

_In the darkness behind his blindfold, he whined, spouting his apologies. They did not affect Spock, but he knew they would touch Karim._

_"Where … where am I?" It asked. "God, please – don't do this – I'll do anything!"_

_"You killed them!" Karim screamed, gripping the gun tighter and aiming it at the man. He retracted the gun perfectly just like he'd seen multiple times before from Spock. The erupting sound caused the man to inch back, moving his head in all kinds of directions like that would aid him in achieving sight._

 

_What a fool._

 

_"I never did – "_

_"Don't fucking lie!"_

_Spock ignored his friends' evil eyes and concentrated on Karim. No one else in the room dared to speak._

_"I don't understand you guys. They're not one of us!" It yelled like that ridiculous statement would make them understand his version of reason._

_"Your stupid point aside," Karim breathed in, "You killed humans too. You killed your own people for trying to stop you, for trying to teach you the ethical route."_

_It didn't answer, which was the only smart it did on Spock's part._

_Karim snarled, his power growing from his possession and from his position, "You burn everything. You burn life, and you think you can relish in our winnings? We're not sympathizers. We're the 'you', you were supposed to be. You're nothing but a pathetic failure!"_

_Markus kept on his toes, ready to steal the weapon if need be. Spock made it clear that Markus would never have the chance by stepping between them._

_"We don't burn because of them." Karim opined, his lips quivering – all his senses honed onto this man. "We burn because of you."_

_"Don't – "_

_"I should give them what they want." Karim sniffed, "I should force you to watch the sky open up so that we step on your ashes tomorrow. But that's too kind."_

_Anastasia had to look away. She acknowledged that any expression and any opinion could prove detrimental to them, because Karim was essentially speaking her words. She believed them like she believed in the very air she breathed._

_Terrence's nostrils flared, enthralled by the very same sentiments he shared._

_Yes, Spock should not have been surprised that this lurked inside his people._

_Karim showed no signs of stopping, "We should light you up with old fashioned fire."_

_"Please." It pleaded, "You said you'd help me. I'm suffering out there." Saliva dripped down his lips, his blindfold darkening in color from the wetness underneath._

_"I could remove the gun." Spock offered, shocking the rest in the room. "I could offer another weapon that would prolong his end. "_

_Karim swallowed, his chest rising up and down from the messy sight next to his feet._

_"Or, I could teach you how to complete your objective with your hands." He seductively added with a whisper near Karim's ear. "He has no choice but to be patient as you learn. The options are endless."_

_The man's words became nonsensical, reaching upon a panic attack._

_The reality became too much to bear. Spock could hear it from Karim's shaking breaths._

_"Of course trial and error is to be expected – "_

_With a clang, Karim dropped the gun and cried, covering his mouth. Markus immediately held him as Clayton swooped in to grab the weapon._

_Karim could not handle it._

_Therefore, the rest of the base could not and Spock needed to show this to his council and friends._

_He turned the man unconscious, his screams becoming too much to tolerate._

_"You have all suffered." Spock said to them, "But we are soldiers. We can live with ourselves. They cannot and it is our duty to make them remember what this is, what we are. I refuse for this to become some maddened spectacle."_

_Karim continued to punch Spock's bed, aggravated at his reaction, satisfied all the same – a confused set of emotions that no one could tolerate._

_"Never approach me again with your asinine suggestions. Never think that you can manipulate me to comply with your beliefs." His journey was different than theirs. The downfall from this execution was an easy one to envision. "Never assume that because of my blood, I cannot manage my hatred."_

_That struck Clayton the most, flinching back, "We didn't mean it like – "_

_Spock was not interested._

_"Our principles will not be swayed. We will not turn into another tarnished group of this planet. We have all seen too many. Warehouse 15 will not have streams of blood staining its floors and walls. This is a sanctuary – a home – a place of survival and comfort."_

_There were children here. This was not some mere dream to him. It was a vision he had already accomplished, and he intended to keep it._

_"Or is our philosophy based on a mistaken belief?"  
_

_They shook their heads, fully agreeing, now getting the magnitude of what such a philosophy required. It required tough moments such as this, the Universe dangling revenge in front of them, promising fulfillment when it was destruction in disguise._

 

_This man did not attack them._

_This man asked for help._

_They all knew what this would be if they followed through._

 

_"Markus."_

_Markus squeezed his eyes shut and took a resigned step back. "Warehouse 15 does not judge."_

_Spock then glanced at Terrence who felt every inch of Spock's disappointment. "Terrence."_

_"Warehouse 15 does not judge." Terrence repeated with gritted teeth._

_Anastasia soon followed, "Warehouse 15 does not judge."_

_Clayton appeared to be forming an expression of relief, "Warehouse 15 does not judge."_

_"Now – " Spock began, satisfied at the outcome, "Let us inform the rest of the base and settle this anarchy. I expect compliance."_

_He concealed his gratefulness of their agreement, too close to losing control of this place._

_"Clayton, you carry him to the cafeteria. Markus, make certain that no one touches him. Anastasia and I will lead the way." He then looked at Terrence, and stepped closer until they were less than an arm's width away, "Your only objective is to stay away."_

_Terrence shrunk from that, Spock's words no different than a slap, bruising him yellow, black and dark blue._

_"Karim?" Spock called to the adolescent, clenching Spock's sheets and sniffing inside._

_Karim removed himself from the bed and wiped his face, his cheeks a warm peach under his tanned skin. "… Warehouse 15 does not judge."_

_Spock nodded and opened his door, a pandemonium of 'judge him' floating all around them._

_He would let the man go, but not before he knew that sympathizers and a Vulcan saved him. The man would have to fend for himself the moment the lights retreated, dropped in the middle of nowhere._

_Spock did not care what happened to him, only that it would not happen on these grounds._

 

_Warehouse 15 did not judge._


	73. POST SIM - PART TWENTY SEVEN (6)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on an updating rampage.  
> I'm editing a good 25K at the moment, and with this finale rough draft I coughed up with it all ... this fic might be complete at a staggering 400K.
> 
> Then again, what do I know? I said UNKNOWN would be finished soon 100K in.  
> I'm not okay, guys. 
> 
> Song: Thrive by Yoe Mase  
> Warning: Life. (And my way of fucking with Starfleet)
> 
> ~X

** POST SIM - PART TWENTY SEVEN (6)  
**

"Damage report." Jim grumbled, placing his forehead on the table and burning his nasal cavities by breathing in the cleaning alcohol.

This was life sucking.

"Lt. DeMarcus exhibits blatant signs of agitation and impatience." Spock read aloud, "He is the second officer to do so."

"He fidgets." Jim summarized with a defeated sigh, remembering that DeMarcus tapped the table one hundred and twelve times. It took everything in him to not make a song out of it.

"Constantly." Spock solemnly agreed, "Captain Dumont has submitted a recommendation for a psychological evaluation."

"I had to try." Unlike Ensign Ophelia, who was still well enough for a mission of this duration, at least on the surface, DeMarcus needed at least a year off. Poor guy didn't even remember the date. "It wasn't right to thrust him into a situation like that so soon after his SIM."

With a low hiss, the front door opened again, revealing another prospective crewmember. Jim would have to regret his decision later.

"We could revisit his file at a more amenable time," Spock suggested as he waved his finger towards them so that the guest could follow.

Jim knew by the schedule exactly who this man was. "Congratulations on your compatibility with the Enterprise, Commander Devin Huck."

"The honor is mine," He earnestly replied, pristine and professional as he took his seat at the end of the table. He looked so small all the way over there.

"Your compatibility is not a surprising one. In fact, it was commonly spoken of prior to your SIM." Spock opened up the interview after he greeted Huck with a nod.

"That's correct." Huck calmly responded. "My Captain and I have key differences as I do with the rest of the crew, but I always thought we complimented each other. It appears that the Enterprise is a better alternative for me." He said, "I've done my fair share of missions. I've also worked in virtually every part of a ship."

 

Someone in Huck's situation wasn't supposed to sell himself. Not after what Jim's discovered about him. This person was supposed to beg, and get far away from here. Jim knew that there were many other crewmembers like this one, however all he could think of were Bones and Sulu.

Jim wanted to avoid those circumstances if possible.

 

"Fair share?" Jim repeated with both brows up, thinking of all the sixty-eight away missions this man was a part of, "You've only been planetside for a total of six years since your enlistment – thirty years ago."

"Well, yes. That's true, I guess." Huck simply shrugged, "I've never thought about it like that."

For Huck's latest excursion, he was supposed to join the USS Antigone again. He was assigned to its senior crew, him and Captain Dumont going way back.

"Your next mission was for six months," Jim wondered how someone kept up such a grand façade. "And now it's five years …"

And there it was. Huck's straight lips dropped a bit, his aura fading.

Spock noticed it easily, "For thirty years, you have either remained on a Starbase, on a Starship or on another Federation planet for diplomatic services. For thirty years, you have returned to Terra, only to depart within a two to seven month Terran period. So far, you have remained here for one year and twelve days."

Both Jim and Spock deliberately kept silent as they watched Huck open and shut his mouth, his hesitation seeping through.

"I am inquiring as to your reason for the recent disruption of your usual behavior." Spock emphasized, placing his PADD down and patiently waiting.

Once it became evident that Huck still couldn't answer, Jim spoke up. "You are aware that considering the nature of our mission, civilians are not allowed aboard the ship."

Huck vigorously nodded, "Of course."

"Then why aren't you asking me to help you?" Jim peeved. This guy wasn't giving them an inch, dedicated to the T. Although Jim wasn't so big on social media, he used it to search on all the names on his list along with the general information given to him, "Your girlfriend is pregnant, Commander."

Huck only offered them a languid grin in return.

Spock's pity was something only Jim could see, oblivious to Huck in general. It was a brief blink, vanishing as soon as it came, "That is why you agreed to join Captain Dumont's crew prior to the SIMULATION's re-implementation, because despite the risk, you were guaranteed return in six months."

"Right before her expected due date." Jim finished off.

"This is one of the most anticipated missions in all of Starfleet." Huck responded after a gulp, "I have eyed the Enterprise since her creation. My level of expertise would be useful for it, especially since we would be venturing into uncharted space – "

"Exactly." Jim had no doubt of that. "Uncharted space equals danger. A man of your ken must know of the mortality rate included in that."

A tight smile erupted on Huck's face, "I could also die on the Antigone, sir."

_Please._

"That is unlikely, Commander." Spock opined. "You feel compelled to follow through with the path that has been drawn out for you. You trust the system. Perhaps there is also a sense of duty as well."

"Consider yourself released from it." Jim added, trying to erase the images he saw previously of Huck having his arms wrapped around a woman with the brightest eyes that could rivale Urain, "I'll see what I can do."

Huck scratched at his groomed beard, eyes wide as he stuttered lowly, "But – "

"Just say 'thank you'." Jim interjected, already moving his papers away, indicating that he was ready for the next person.

Huck slowly arose from his seat, patting his thighs twice.

"You are dismissed." Spock concluded the meeting, shutting out any attempts for Huck to counteract their decision.

 

The relief was a transparent blanket that covered Huck completely, releasing the tension from his firm body. Commander Huck ceased to exist.

The grateful person before them was a simple man. He was Devin, an expecting father that's done enough for Starfleet in his lifetime. It wouldn't be long before he began to consider retirement.

 

"Th … thank you."

**.**

**.**

**.**

"Damage report." Jim whispered as they quizzically stared at the ensign that seemed lost in the room. Perhaps he'd never been in this portion of headquarters.

Spock leaned in, his eyes still glued on the man … boy … young man or whatever. Shit, he was only nineteen. If it weren't for the young man's scores and recommendation, he wouldn't be considered for their crew.

Chekov was the only exception to the rule.

"He appears to be just that. Damaged." Spock pointed out, probably wondering if this ensign was going to take a seat anytime soon. Spock's pupils were attracted to each step the ensign took.

"He's just nervous." He simply replied, sugar coating the overall weirdness that took place in front of him.

"Exceedingly so." Spock said, his intensive stare unfaltering.

"Man, you guys must have been here for a long time, huh?" The ensign turned away from the window and practically cheesed at them, showing his perfectly shaved set of teeth, the canines being absent of any sharpness.

"If you would classify three hours as being a long time …" Jim awkwardly answered, knowing he would be here for longer. He stayed here for almost five hours last time. "I'm sure you know why you're here."

"Yeah …" The ensign cleared his throat and shifted his pupils around again, momentarily resting on Spock before looking away again with flinch. "Ain't the SIM supposed to do all this work."

"Computers aren't so perfect, even in this day an age." He said, looking over the man's file to confirm what he previously read.

"Tell me 'bout it." The ensign animatedly blew out a gust of air with a roll to his eyes, "But preparation is half of the victory, and in this case, a very promising mission." He popped a fist up, too relaxed in their presence.

 

The comment was one that had a heavy sense of familiarity. Jim agreed wholeheartedly, knowing that he must have read that somewhere.

This was an image of someone who was trying too hard. The observation was sort of a mean one, except Jim's seen this all too often. He couldn't be wrong.

The ensign wasn't nervous of his situation, but of them specifically - especially Spock.

 

Spock scooted away, leaving much of Jim's space and heavily sighed, not appreciating the unusual super casual decorum, "Take a seat, Ensign Shojiro Tsuzuki."

As if stunned, Tsuzuki gravitated towards his seat and glued his bottom on it.

Spock didn't give time for Tsuzuki to get it together, merely beginning in his overview, "Normally, we would refrain from delving so extensively into one's academic records, however it is imperative in this case since you have graduated less than five years ago – "

"Two years ago to be exact, sir." Tsuzuki interjected, causing Spock to look up from his PADD and raise a brow.

Jim coughed into his fist to prevent a laugh. Spock clearly wasn't in favor of being interrupted, especially with information he was going to air out himself.

"In light of that," Spock continued, his voice acidic in its flow, "You have also been highly recommended by our Chief Engineer." He informed, sliding his PADD in Jim's direction so that he could re-read Scotty's letter.

Tsuzuki's cheeks took on a hint of tangerine as he smiled in return, hands still stuck on his thighs.

"Now how did that happen?" Jim asked, resting his chin on his knuckles. He was finding amusement in this young fella with ease.

"I volunteered in the restoration of the USS Enterprise a while back. I don't think Mr. Scott wants to let me go." He chuckled, his humor dying immediately after taking a glance at Spock again.

Tsuzuki had to stop doing that. It wasn't like Spock was going to join in on his laughter.

Spock wasn't going to eat him either.

"Mr. Scott took a liking to you." And Jim could imagine it too. Everyone was taking advantage of this crew makeover. He wouldn't be surprised if McCoy put in his two-cents, or anybody else.

Tsuzuki didn't deny it, "I guess."

"Seeing as you specifically requested the Enterprise, took the initiative to sneak your way into the liking of my trusted Chief Engineer, and then achieved compatibility, I don't see why this wouldn't work out."

Tsuzuki was a walking contradiction. He radiated happiness, which made sense, however the shine seemed almost obstructed, and his frown soon appeared as he shut his eyes in thought or regret, "I have something to say, actually –"

"Before we address that, I have something to add," Spock suddenly interrupted one of their smoothest interviews, his doubt ringing for everyone to hear, "Your SIM lasted for thirteen hours and sixteen minutes."

"Yes." Tsuzuki anxiously swallowed.

Spock skeptically watched him, being the primary source to all the ensign's anxiety, "You somehow managed to complete all objectives, receiving a grade of PASS."

The simple statement of fact apparently didn't sit well with Tsuzuki. Both cheeks formed forceful dimples from biting, "Well the SIM world in itself was five days, sir." He offered up, as if that helped his case and smoothed out all the perplexity.

"So _one_ objective per day." Spock narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms, an unusual position for him in this reality. His point still remained.

"Rounds, sir." Tsuzuki corrected, "They're called rounds. One round per day."

This exchange must have had some telepathic dialogue within it, because Jim thought himself out be missing out on something. Tsuzuki was about to sweat up a pool in his seat.

Spock didn't budge, "Fascinating."

Jim briefly wondered how unprofessional it would be to burst out into guffaws. Spock was envious. This ensign, who had everything to prove, didn't endure the same rigorous testing as them, whom had nothing to prove. Spock must have been irked the moment Tsuzuki pranced in here, unaffected by his pixilated trepidation, chill as any other day.

Those with the simplest of lives had come across their own Round Four. That was fact.

Either Tsuzuki was a rare case, or his mask was better than everyone else's and that was indeed creepier than the former.

"Explain it to me." Spock demanded, ignoring Jim's questioning, obvious stare.

"Sorry?" Tsuzuki inquired with bugged eyes.

"Explain how you managed to undergo the program and succeed in so little time." Spock was no different than a detective in a trench coat, his face barely illuminated by the cheap lighting, leaning down and smoothly asking his questions.

On the outside it was a kind approach, when in actuality, it was a poisonous sneer, warning the target to answer appropriately.

And Tsuzuki had trouble to find his words. Jim curiously watched as he struggled, wondering where this tension was coming from. It was layering above them all.

"It depends on what's in your mind, really." Tsuzuki scratched his head, messing his hair up, "I just knew my way around."

That caught Jim's attention, "How?"

It was unfortunate that him and Spock couldn't play with him for long.

"Would you be more comfortable if I were to send my SIM footage?" Tsuzuki took over the game and came out victor. His question was synonymous to asking for a lawyer.

Spock instantly turned to Jim with a stare of a fastidious nature. They were swindled into giving up. Perhaps this was a message from the Universe for him and Spock to stop terrorizing ensigns for the day.

"Don't be absurd," Jim ruefully laughed to soften the atmosphere. "We wouldn't ask that of you." Heck, he didn't even know if he was allowed, considering that Tsuzuki wasn't officially with the Enterprise yet. "It's of little significance. You'll be a great addition to the crew – "

The hesitation resurfaced, causing Jim to pause.

"Will you _not_ be working alongside us, Ensign Tsuzuki?" He discerned, peeved by the turn of events.

Tsuzuki bit his bottom lip, "I wanted to tell you that I don't think I can."

Spock didn't appear surprised, just unsatisfied. "You had the option of contacting my Captain prior to your attendance here today."

"I know," Tsuzuki answered with a tight grimace, both his hands up in surrender. "I know, but if I did, you would have requested to see me regardless. So I thought it best to tell you face to face."

"I don't understand." Jim shook his head, "You specifically requested my ship, and seeing as you have no bindings to Earth, this is best case career move for you."

"It's…. ummm, tough to explain."

Jim was too tired to dillydally, "Well spit it out."

Tsuzuki wiped his face and concentrated on his thighs again, "I'm starting to question my role in Starfleet." He answered a little too fast.

"Oh my god," Jim physical deflated.

Spock shut his eyes for a moment and breathed in, "A popular sentiment, it seems."

"This has nothing to do with you guys. I mean you two … you guys are awesome. Like phenomenal. I've been looking forward to this in forever, and I'm probably really stupid for this." Tsuzuki nonsensically mumbled and played with his thumbs, "I just don't see myself staying, when so many others are being hurt."

"That's understandable," Jim said, checking out of the whole conversation at this point. This had to be the worst set of people he'd received. Not that the people were bad … just their circumstances.

It sucked.

"You will inform us of your final decision, Mr. Tsuzuki." Spock ordered, knowing just as much as Jim that Tsuzuki's decision probably depended on what happened with Starfleet.

Tsuzuki sniffed, standing up slowly and doing a quick bow. "For what it's worth, I wish you guys much success in your endeavors."

"Thank you, Shojiro" Jim earnestly replied, enjoying how Tsuzuki practically lost his composure and beamed with all the optimism he could muster. Jim wanted to steal some of it for himself. "We want the best too."

"You know what they say …" Tsuzuki rubbed the tip of his nose quickly then looked to both of them, even casting one look at Spock. "If evil lasts for so long, it's only proper for the good to follow suit pretty soon."

The familiarity tugged at Jim again, Spock obliviously sorting their items as Tsuzuki was taking his leave. Except, Jim didn't want him to leave yet.

"It is impossible for good or evil to last forever," Jim mumbled into the large room. He felt Spock and Tsuzuki pause in their movements. "And hence it follows that the evil having lasted long, the good must be now nigh at hand."

He finished iterating off the quote he was so grateful to have remembered, and flickered his gaze to the stunned ensign.

"Miguel de Cervantes." Jim finished off, watching intently as Tsuzuki became magnetized into a stupor.

Tsuzuki looked to be skinned raw.

"Classic. Never would have guessed." Tsuzuki feigned a grin before he waved and took his leave. It looked to have been an urgent escape.

After another hiss, the room looked to have multiplied twice its size. "He referred to the same story twice, Spock."

Spock didn't catch onto it because he didn't know, "Then is he not what you would deem a fan?"

"He must be." Jim hoped so. "He has to be."

"Although I am not familiar with Cervantes' work, there must be those that are."

Jim hadn't met much that would care for something of the like, "I hope he changes his mind."

Spock fixed his sights on Jim and tightened his lips, "So that you may share your adoration for a tale that speaks of an aging, lonely man, carelessly disposing his sanity in exchange for an adventure?"

"You liked it, Spock." Jim teased, knowing full well that Spock enjoyed his late night summaries in the small apartment.

"I did, indeed" Spock wistfully replied, "I favored anything that provided a much needed distraction for both of us."

 

So many things were showing to be unfair. Jim watched Spock open up the required information pertaining to the next expected visitor. It was an absolute wonder to hear the easiness in Spock's admissions, leaving nothing much for deliberation. Spock reacted and moved as if the statement didn't just exposed the ripped edges of his heart.

He asked for Spock to strip of this wall, and he was seeing irrefutable evidence of it. And hell, he felt so limited in his response, his words caged in his throat.

How much would it hurt if Jim just blurted out his love so casually, feeding into their dream of what could be if things turned in their favor? Spock already took to momentarily relinquishing their caution, touching with his own will, each sensation being the reason for his shivers.

He wanted more. He probably would never be satiated if he reached out right now and comforted Spock. The pounding want for it all yanked at his strings.

The desolate memories of both of them trying so hard to remain in a world of rubble, robbed of everything they held dear but of each other. It was the simple things – their stories – their games, their runs and drives, and their blissful enrapturing caresses.

Instead of sleeping alone on his kitchen floor, in his closet or in the tub, he was in his long neglected bed, in a cocoon of Spock's love.

 

Set in his decision, he took to tracing the top of Spock's left thigh with his knuckles, starting with his knee.

Spock physically stiffened, gripping the PADD so tight, it could crack. Spock didn't glance down to see Jim place his entire palm and grip onto his mid-thigh, stricken by the sudden contact.

Jim could see the conflict in Spock's face as he inched closer, thankful to everything above that they were sitting so close to begin with. He listened to Spock's hitched breath, brushing the tip of his nose on Spock's cheek, relishing in their closeness.

Slack-jawed, Spock could only speak Jim's name and it made him think that if it were up to him right now, he would make Spock repeat it endlessly. He wanted to hear it in mere breaths, and in struggling vocals.

Jim hummed in response, nuzzling under Spock's jaw, inhaling him as he trailed his hand further up. He needed Spock to feel his unending longing.

 

"This is not wise." Spock eventually husked out, unconsciously leaning further in, but placing his covered forearm over Jim's hand so that he didn't tread up dangerous levels.

Jim managed to get away from the grip and wrapped his arm around Spock's waist instead, settling closer, "Only for a little."

 

He wasn't going to taunt, taste and kiss. He wanted Spock's cocoon, and he knew Spock coveted for it just as much. Here he was again, offering all he could and neglected of the same in return, his mind vacant.

He hoped to feel something like before in his home - phantom pains, aches, anything. It was a temporary transference most probably.

Nevertheless, he couldn't mourn its loss any more, the act being nothing but torturous. He had to appreciate what he had before it, the precursor being just as valuable. Spock had to know without a doubt how much the closeness had the capability of making him anew.

Spock's hand lifted up and neared right above Jim's batch of hair. The action was then retracted, Spock disappointed by his reflex. Jim felt Spock's throat move right under his lips from the gulp that followed.

To ease the disappointing thoughts it brought upon, Jim squeezed Spock's waist tighter and let his mind run rapid, open and free for Spock's access.

 

He may not have been able to get one beat, but he damn sure could do this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Operative cameos for the win ^-^!


	74. POST SIM - PART TWENTY SEVEN (7)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has to be the longest written day in the fic.  
> I could have posted it all together - but knowing me, I would have been blind to a million mistakes.  
> Hope you enjoy!!
> 
> Song: Love by Lana Del Rey (Blame her for the next wave of upcoming updates)  
> Warning: Attacking the subtext in STID - because I fucking can. 
> 
> ~X

** POST SIM - PART TWENTY SEVEN (7)  
**

As the day neared its end, it wasn't surprising when Spock and Jim found each other again. They headed to one of the locations that Jim knew would be surrounded by Starfleet personnel, ranging from cadets to planetside officers, and ordered their beverages. Low subtle beats played in the background, suiting the glossy mahogany walls and black leather seats. It was the perfect social and working environment.

Jim selected a table that was isolated enough, but not too hidden. He knew exactly where it would be, thankful it was free considering how busy it was this evening.

They've been here once. He suggested this place the moment he was free to leave his home without the need to inform McCoy at all times. Some stuck up part of him wanted to advertise that he was feeling better then, hoping that all rumors would die down.  People would talk of how he was walking and talking with a smile to his face instead.

He was smiling here just the same, except for another reason completely. Something as simple as being together for a whole day, despite the hectic things that took place in it, was an enrapturing experience that felt out of this world. If he closed his eyes, he could imagine that not only was everything back to normal, but that they were even more united, a better sense of clarity in their position.

 

They continued their work, Spock informing him of his final conclusions for the other four candidates he interviewed alone. By Spock's advice, they could continue as expected with no complications.

"Hopefully." Jim replied with a snicker, wondering why he had to be present for the complicated bunch, but not for the rest.

The topic was a short one, for two casually dressed human women interrupted them. Spock turned to blink at them then back at Jim, asking if he knew them with his unsettling expression. Jim didn't, so he answered Spock's internal query by addressed the strangers with an earnest smile.

"Hello there."

"Hi." They excitedly waved at Jim and at Spock without the expected apprehension, just pure kindness. They looked to have similar qualities, their resembling warm russet brown skin being a telling one. They were sisters, surely.

One was shorter than the other by a good two feet, whereas the other was taller and leaner, sporting a shorter auburn hairstyle. Their eyes were an identical hazelnut, shining as bright as their smile.

The one that Jim assumed to be younger spoke first, "I just wanted to say – "

"Well, my sister and I wanted to say – " The other interrupted, both of them giggling as it happened.

"It's okay." Jim comforted them out of their nervousness, catching a peek of Spock's evident amusement of it all.

The younger one blew out a gust of air to compose herself and smiled back with gritted teeth, quickly taking a turn to look behind her back, catching the attention of one of the larger, fuller tables.

Spock moved a bit to the left to catch them wave in their direction. There were seven of them, half in uniform.

"This is far from a professional introduction, but I'm Nadi and Raziya here is my sister." The younger one proclaimed, Raziya waving at them again.

It was an adorable sight, but Jim feared that if he let out a laugh, they would take it the wrong way.

"Some of us were sorted into the Enterprise. Some of us weren't because we were either sorted to other ships, or we haven't gotten a grade yet." Nadi told them, "I look forward to my service, just as the rest behind me. Don't tell them I told you this, but they were too shy to come here themselves."

Jim wanted to tell her, and the rest that they didn't need to be shy, especially if they were going to work together, except Raziya beat him to it.

"I, for one, haven't received a grade yet, but seeing as I meet the requirements, I put in an official request." Raziya explained with a sigh, "Truthfully, I'll be lucky to even be allowed on any ship because my SIM appointment was for today." She stopped when she noticed Jim's fallen expression and Spock's sinking shoulders. She waved both her hands again, this time with a strained smile, "It's not a big deal, really."

Nadi inched closer to Raziya and wrapped her arm around her sister, not caring for the difficulty from their height difference, "My sister and I have breathed the same air since my birth. But before that, she'd gone through some things that I hadn't, and we've come to the decision that undergoing the test would crush all our progress."

"What you guys are doing, what you're saying, is really honorable." Raziya continued, "And I'm not saying this for selfish reasons like how I really want to stay here, but because so others don't go through something they've already conquered like you two have."

Jim's heart fell to his gut, beating too fast in the foreign environment.

"And I've always admired Lt. Grayensha – unfortunately always from afar, so please relay this message to her." Rita said before they both smiled again and retreated to their table, the others swarming the two with their incessant questions about how it went, most probably.

Jim barely had a second to get a proper response in and they were already gone. He could still feel their adoration over them. All those people were so innocent, stuck in a situation in which they didn't know how to handle, and going through the breeze until something hopefully good could come out of it.

 

Spock didn't take his eyes of them, placing his material down and inching his seat back. He was obviously uncomfortable with how it went, robbed of the opportunity to express his own thoughts.

Jim extended his arm across their little table, thinking that the action would stop Spock from getting up.

"What are you doing?" He questioned. Too bad his words landed on deaf ears, because Spock was moving towards them, the group noticing his approach. They looked like someone was coming to them with a weapon, a few inching back with wide eyes and a few sucking in their lips.

Jim watched Spock speak to them, their expression turning from fright to sadness, slowly morphing into one of awe. Raziya covered his mouth with one palm, Nadi rubbing her back in comfort as she gazed at Spock with astonishment.

A couple laughs soon erupted, and Jim felt so out of the loop, he wanted to run up there and insert himself into the conversation. Instead, he remained spectator and rested his cheek on his palm.

It took another minute for Jim to look away. He started to feel incredibly guilty because those people and their expressions carried resemblance of how the occupants of their old home surrounded themselves around the Chief, keen on everything he said and responded with a carefree nature, not thinking ' _Oh shit, this is Commander Spock. Stay away._ '

He shut his eyes when another set of guffaws took place, catching the attention of the rest of the establishment. It was too similar, everyone only needed a change of clothes and the walls to turn a dark metallic to boot.

Soon, Spock returned to his seat and flicked open his comm as if he didn't just do something that would automatically warrant a million set of questions.

"Nyota returned my message." Spock said. "She wishes to call us instead."

They've been trying to contact her all day, and when they finally get a word from her, it's when Jim's stomach rumbles.

"I was going to get some food next." He mumbled, too lazy to go home and make something since this call would have to be done in private.

Spock started to put his stuff away, "My home is closer. After our call with Nyota, I will prepare a meal for us."

Jim almost gushed at the proposal, "Under one condition."

"You are not in the position to set any conditions, seeing as I am the one conducting the favor." Spock deadpanned.

"Okay." Jim simply replied, knowing that he would come out victor. "It's not like you want my company or anything."

Spock's exhale was a loud one, "Explain your conditions," He forfeited, standing up so they could make way for the exit.

Jim took another glance at the group that took to waving at them again as they started to walk out. He smiled with flashing teeth, waving right back.

"What did you say to them?" He asked once he was in earshot of Spock.

"I merely expressed our agreement and approval of Raziya's decision." Spock answered, pushing the door open for Jim as they left, "And that if any of them so chose the same, it would not be perceived as a weakness."

That couldn't have been it, "That's really nice, but you said more. I know you said more." He added, remembering the laughs.

The air was cooler than it was yesterday as it brushed their skin while they trod to Spock's hovercraft. The lights of the craft flashed twice, causing Jim to wince from the unexpected sight. He pushed it away with ease, moving along.

"I added that if we were to work together, the ceaseless banter and jests they partook and mainly initiated in my classroom would not be tolerated." Spock said, taking to his seat the moment the doors opened up.

"They were your students?" Well damn.

Spock confirmed with a nod, "To fear a SIM itself is a redundant one, if each and every one of them tends to openly speak of their personal matters, especially of their sexual escapades in detail. Details that I wish to forget."

Jim couldn't prevent his snort, the sound coming out like that of a child, "They wouldn't interrupt you to do that!"

"No, they incessantly spoke before class officially began and continued as they would exit the room," He clarified, "I remain perplexed as to how they managed to constantly submit exceptional work, their oral execution leaving some to be desired, but no more than everyone else."

**.**

**.**

**.**

"Where are you?!" Jim practically yelled, thankfully stripped of his silver jacket and pacing in Spock's living room with his white undershirt, touching the warm floors with his socks.

From what he noticed in Uhura's background on the video comm, she wasn't in China anymore. A homogeneous country such as China couldn't have had a million foreigners walking behind her. Not to mention that it looked like the sun was just about to make its appearance. Everything around Uhura looked misplaced.

 _"I'm_ _up and about._ " Uhura answered, cheesing at her sneaky behavior.

It was short lived since Spock answered for her, unfazed by the humorous dismissiveness, "Nyota is currently in South Africa. I believe she endeavors to seek out another sister institution."

She widened here eyes. _"I'm_ _sorry you guys found out the way you did, but don_ ' _t make it sound so evil. I'm_ _only doing my part._ "

"And what did you do, exactly? Because for some reason, you managed to get President Chen under your thumb."

" _I only utilized my private property._ " She replied with a shrug, her wavy hair following the wind, " _I have the right to do what I want with it._ "

What was that supposed to mean? "You what?!"

" _Mr. Chen had an exclusive VIP viewing of a feature film._ " She said, dusting off something from her bright yellow shirt as she continued to walk down the busy street, " _Starring moi._ "

"What was in it to have such an impact?" Jim wasn't ready to discover another lie within his crew. If he did, he didn't know how he would react, "Last I checked - your SIM was rather simple." He then turned to Spock whom was sitting on one of the two couches with a peering glare, "Unless that was wrong." He dared to imply his dreading thought.

"Knowing Nyota, she may have exclusively shown troubling and compromising moments to achieve the desired result."

The conclusion Jim settled on was a disturbing one, "… Did you show him your Round Four?"

" _It_ 's _no different than what you guys are doing. The media has become your chew toy and it_ ' _s great, so let me do what I have to do._ " Uhura sat on a bench and sighed; giving them an exclusive viewing to the greenest, liveliest forest Jim's ever seen. " _From the moment I knew you two would hit the max, things haven't been sitting right with me. Now with all this information up in the air, I'_ _ve decided to try my best for not only my colleagues, but for my friends._ "

"Your assistance is one that is deeply appreciated, Nyota. But I am obligated to inform you that you are placing yourself at risk with further action."

" _It_ 's _a risk worth taking._ " She offered a tense widening of her lips, a struggling attempt of her usual, genuine smile, " _I know you two don_ ' _t require my sympathies. I know you_ ' _d rather bury your stubborn heads under the sand before you get a single hint of remorse from me, but I_ ' _m going to let you know this. Things will return to its proper order. We all deserve it._ "

Her words resonated deep within Jim.

Spock, on the other hand, wasn't finished, "But Nyota – "

" _Wish me luck._ " She cut Spock off with a subtle eye roll, " _I_ ' _ll try to make it to the meeting tomorrow, but I_ ' _ll let you know how it goes beforehand._ "

The call came to an abrupt end, Jim groaning in aggravation as he plopped himself onto the empty space next to Spock.

Spock automatically reached forward, picked up Jim's PADD from the center table and passed it to him, all while staring into his own device.

Jim thanked him and began to browse around his new profile page and timeline.

Followers.

The account was only twenty-one hours years old and it managed to obtain followers.

So many followers.

Forty thousand and eighteen to be exact, "May as well see what's going on out there…" He muttered, stretching out and placing his calves over Spock's thighs, resting his back on the edge of the couch.

He was too oblivious to notice Spock freeze up in response.

"I'm not understanding the hashtag …" He then said, instead of moving his legs away like he should have. He was too tired to bother, and if it were really that bad, Spock would have said something, or pushed him off entirely.

"The purpose behind it is rather simple." Spock answered after he cleared his throat, "Topics can be organized through the mechanism. All you are required to do is place the pound sign before a key term, so that a link to the page in which all related material is sorted into is easily accessible."

"That was a rhetorical question." Jim chuckled. He moved the PADD away from his face so that he could see Spock without the opaque material floating above him. "How on Earth did you know that?"

"Lt. Grayensha explained it to me, stating that it was a benefiting mechanism to increase communication and place all popular discussions into one place." Spock said, "For example, people took to sharing their SIM stories on various pages, scattering the content. However – "

"Now there's something called #PASTLIFETALES," He finished off, finding the page and passing it to Spock with a grin at his discovery.

Spock grimaced at the sight, scrolling down the page with his own stylus, "Most of these I find to be disconcerting."

"And some of them are funny." He said, easing the mood a bit. He inched a little closer to direct Spock to one of the posts by ' _I'mT_ _ooOldForThis_ '

"He said his torso is now too weird to look at 'cause he'd been fluffy for the last two months. There's nothing to play with anymore, and his younger add-ons liked it when he drew eyes around his gut – " He imagined the description, hiding his face immediately. It was glorious material. The user wanted to quit Starfleet so that he could get it back.

"To each their own preference," Spock commented, taking back his own device. "Laughter can be an effective method of comfort for some."

"For all." He corrected.

"For some." Spock iterated, far from amused.

"Including you."

Spock tossed the PADD on Jim's thighs, "I cannot alter your beliefs."

"Because they're mainly facts." Jim retorted, hearing the buzz of Spock's comm.

But Spock didn't care to look at it yet, not without getting another jibe in, "A mere opinion in a pool of many."

"A solid and reliable opinionated fact." He said without thought.

If it weren't for Spock keeping quiet, if it weren't for Spock's staggering look of discontent, he would have continued. Jim wasn't thinking. 

So he ceased the fun exchange and browsed the page in front of him. It was too soon.

"Jim, I will be escorting V'ek to her interview." Spock said as if he was confessing to something troubling, "Also, I am not comfortable with her being alone during preparation with the Dhars."

"They're dragons." Jim muttered, "I expected as much. Luckily, it's a early radio show so there's not much pressure." And he meant that in regards to Grayensha's expression, her demeanor, her outfit and the rest. Then again, Celine Varra was going to be a guest as well, so for all Jim knew, the environment would be too hectic for Grayensha. He definitely couldn't imagine Spock in that environment. "Plus, you'll have enough time to meet up with the rest of us."

"Yes, I should."

"It'll all be fine, Spock. She's going to be with the most ANTI-SIM bunch in existence. She won't be pointlessly shoved in the spot."

"Logically, that is correct, however her concern seeps through my communicator regardless."

"You're really worried." Jim noticed.

With a subtle shake of his head, Spock attempted to forget it, "It will dissipate with time."

"Last I remembered, you barely kept up with them." He said, actively sitting on his bitterness and jumping on it to shove it further down, "You kept up on each of their progress, you spoke of them, but you didn't speak to them much if at all… you call her V'ek."

"She is becoming what you would deem a friend."

That was what he always wanted to hear. He'd always wanted Spock to venture outside of the senior crew and create something more than an acquaintanceship. He gulped in response, sniffing after. Be careful of what you wish for, they said.

"We should kidnap her from Captain Dumont. He should consider it a thank you for giving his lovely Commander back." Jim feigned a smile, feeling the swelling warmth by Spock's widened, excited eyes. He would do anything to keep that warmth going.

"We could not possibly – "

Jim didn't want to hear it. "I don't see why not."

"A mission of this grandeur is too early for her."

"Please." He scoffed, "She'll probably be more productive and more useful than half of the crew if she got into your liking."

Spock still intended to fight him on it, "She has never expressed any wishes to aboard the Enterprise – "

"Then find out." He ordered, lifting his device to cover his face to close the silly debate, and opened the camera application.

Spock directed his eyes on Jim's calves, in deep contemplation, "You should know that – " He then halted his words when he noticed the flash from an off guard picture Jim took of him.

Jim viewed the final product with great satisfaction and proceeded to create his first post as Mr. Captain Kirk w/ The Cadet Picture and Forty Thousand Something Followers.

Spock's face had a small twitch to it as he stuttered in inquiring as to Jim's actions and intentions. Once Jim completed his objective, he turned the device around with both brows shot up, proud of his final product.

Spock commenced to grab the object with parted lips.

**#PASTLIFETALES – _Would you believe me If I said he had hair long enough to pull back?_**

The device buzzed and ringed in Spock's palm interminably, causing him to drop the offending object on Jim's legs.

"Delete it."

If Spock really wanted it deleted, he would have done it himself, not irresponsibly leaving the task to Jim, whom most definitely would not do it.

Jim's only response was to post a picture of himself with a thumbs up, grinning like he won the lottery. He coaxed the unseeing audience to continue sending in their stories.

"I would give away my children to see that." He jeeringly read aloud as Spock shut his eyes from pure exhaustion, holding his own ringing comm that ignited right after.

Spock's features were etched, as if in the face of the unclassifiable. Hopefully Spock knew of people's tendency to play with morbid humor online.

Notification after notification, it all blew up, forcing Jim to soon discover how to silence them. He breathed in when he finally accomplished that, in delight by the silence that quickly followed. The only tune he required was the lullaby of Spock's breathing.

**#-##-#-##-#-##-#**

**Risky, but tolerable.**

**\- ED**

**#-##-#-##-#-##-#**

"What's so risky about the photo?" Jim asked Spock, who had his head flung on the back of the couch, his palm covering his eyes – a parody of his usual signs of exhaustion.

"Because your legs can be seen in the photo. It implies only one position." Spock husked out, "And that is the position we are in now."

Jim didn't know what yanked at his heartstrings. He didn't want to think it was the regret in Spock's voice, blaming it solely on their fucked up situation instead. He tried to move his feet away, feeling unreasonably rejected, except against his expectations, Spock dropped his hand to grip them back into place.

"You mistake my words." Spock stated, thick in his tone.

Jim really didn't care. It was an immature sentiment in his head, nonetheless, it rang true. He just fucking didn't care. He never said that he had to like what they were doing. He simply agreed to it, because he would have been a fool to believe that there was another option.

 

He wanted Spock near him, working with him, both responsible towards a bond that confused them both. A bond that didn't exist and yet they felt too probable to taunt, to tease, to give it hints of what they were – making it act outside of their control.

Or perhaps it could be nothing.

Resentment curdled in his gut at the thought of never feeling a beat again.

Then to add to the insult, to have someone message him on his limitations, to have Spock remind me of it with that tone, made him hate it all over again.

If it were up to him, he would post a picture of Spock sleeping next to him and unaware of the world. He wanted everything about them to be the norm, not something they had to micromanage.

One day.

One day, and he could already feel the beginnings of an irreparable fracture forming. Nevertheless, he shoved it down deeper, knowing that his internal rants wouldn't help them in the least. If anything, they had to be attentive to everything else and working to remove this parasite that silently grew around them.

 

Except like all things, it didn't take long for Jim to royally screw up.

In response to the photo, others were posting descriptions of their own altered appearances. Jim commented that he was no different than a caveman, each post becoming another magnet towards his profile. He gained almost another ten thousand.

 

Freakin' phenomenal.

Freakin' frightening.

 

It was more astonishing that the conversation always returned back to Spock, people still adamant in expressing their preferences of the SIM style after Jim described it in more detail, not leaving out how it stuck on Spock's face when wet, or how the full structure of Spock's face was an aesthetically pleasing one when wrapped into a little ball behind his head.

Many fought back, declaring that they preferred the style as is, posting little clips of the infamous video of Spock sprinting for dear life.

He should have noticed the reason for Spock's fixed features, glaring at the footage, but he assumed it to be for the same reason it always was. Spock was shy over it, and avoided any online content that obtained his face and name after giving it the obligatory look-over.

 

"It always goes back to the flying bangs." Jim summarized what he read and saw, "Every time someone says something in favor of the SIM appearance, they post this in retaliation as if it explains everything."

The content definitely derived a chuckle, hoping that Spock would find some humor in it, but that never occurred.

"C'mon, don't be like that." He said, putting his device down with an animated pout, "Even in a day as gloomy as that one, there's nothing wrong with wanting to see something positive – "

"Indulge me then." The cutting statement was one that could make Jim bleed, "How could there be any positive elements, when the remaining light I had was ripped from me?" Spock somberly added.

Jim wanted to retort that hundreds in the ship didn't die that day. That was a fucking positive. But hell, Spock appeared so defeated, spread too thin to hear it. Spock even slid Jim's PADD away in disdain.

"I confided in you and Nyota, admitting to never wanting to feel anything similar to that again. And yet, ... it continues to happen." Spock said, his vexation rising, "You are making light of something I fear will resurface in the midst of complete calm, robbed of a fighting chance."

The anguish in the admission was one that Jim heavily sympathized with. The world could flip in the calmest of days, no warning, no dread, no foreshadowing. Nothing. It was their most terrifying prediction.

Just one big acidic plot twist to make them suffer.

Jim gulped, listening intently. He wondered if Spock currently felt paranoid in their current smooth waves. If so, he worried if Spock would continue to be. He didn't want that to be the case now, or ever.

 

Spock filled in his lungs, "That is an image of a man endeavoring to reach for the impossible, sinking in the illogical – And in the face of a lifesaving opportunity, I almost stole it from you as a result of my emotions. I craved for someone's end because you were sent somewhere unreachable to me."

 

Unreachable…

 

Jim felt an increasing pressure in his throat, pained in thought of the space Spock deemed _unreachable_. Spock had no idea - regretful of what he couldn't reach when he should have been grateful.

No one should enter its vastness. No one.

"I don't know where I went." All he knew was that he never wanted to go back, "There wasn't a light at the end of the tunnel. There were only waves of colorless matter, and my weightless body floated, free of pain."

It sounded like a good thing, except it wasn't. No pain equated to no receptors, no sensation, no feeling – everything that made him human.

He couldn't see the fingers in front of him, making him question if he was in a body at all.

Spock crinkled his brows for a second, clueless as how to offer comfort in the presence of total, shattering disappoint. He looked to have wanted to tell Jim to stop - That he couldn't hear the brutal truth of it.

In this case, the imaginary was certainly more preferable.

"I like to think that I was placed on standby since I'd come back, not yet ready to see what could be offered to me." He really hoped that was the case as he voiced it out, desolate in his tone. "But what if I'm wrong? What if that's it?"

He shrugged to decrease the magnitude of his query, moving his feet away from Spock to sit upright. He bent his head down, resting the bridge of his nose on the inside of his palm. 

"Do you have any idea how terrifying that is for me? I can't think of that day, because it's a literal nightmare. So no, it's not a joke for me either." He never meant for it to sound like a light circumstance when both him and Spock changed that day.

 

A bitter laugh later, his breathing pattern broke, feeling the familiar weightless nothing around him. The pressure on his throat was more preferable. Fuck, he knew deep down that his deep hatred towards their beat-less silence was partially a transferred loathing of that space. The beats were the cure that kept him sane, subconsciously appreciative of how it made him forget the empty presence that his mind had technically never experienced.

Except, it did.

 

"When I say I'm clinging onto optimism, it's moments like this – your hair swaying in the wind, your body cloaked in determination. You were seeking vengeance, yes, but I don't see a man that's lost. I see a man that's never seen things clearer. "

Jim slid the PADD back, showing the very clip Spock detested. It was fascinating to witness the cold expression turn warmer, softer in the light of Jim's forming meaning.

This was his Chief, shooting at a runaway truck full of those that threatened their home. His Chief marked the enemy and defended his own. His cheeky, intelligent and loving Chief was wearing science blue, not hue-sucking black. His Chief had his ears and brows broadcasted to whoever was lucky enough to see, not hidden under longer curtains. His Chief was Starfleet.

His Chief was Commander Spock, and he felt that deep in his veins. This was the familiarity he sensed when he first met the man in his newest home inside a world of a dying species.

"It's not normal to die in the face of missed opportunities, simultaneously clueless as to the source of such uncertainty. Because the crazy part is, in my last breaths, I struggled to call you my friend." He continued, "Although it's true, it felt … off. You saying it for me felt off. I didn't know the reason for that then. I couldn't speak because I was unable to - I couldn't speak because I didn't know what to say."

 

When he was floating, he tried to find out … to no avail.

A tear.

A tear falling down a flushed olive cheek.

A tear was the answer to his question.

A tear revealed it all.

Fingers desperate to touch through the limiting glass, falling with the loss of his strength, trying to cling to the connection.

It was everything he didn't know he wanted.

 

And then _suffocation -_ The pain of it being the final thing that took him from the world.

 

"I had no idea, and I see this clip in awe because if I look hard enough, it's like you _knew_." Call him crazy. Call him a dreamer. "You called me your friend, and yet, you knew."

Spock enclosed his fists over his lap, flickering his eyes from the device to Jim's saddened eyes. The indent resumed on Spock's left cheek, his muscles tightening. He became reluctant in his actions, confused on how to move his own limbs. He looked so exposed, fighting to steady his breath. This was the reaction of someone cut raw, waiting to be used.

It was the exact reflection of Jim's own emotions.

"And here you are … telling me that the light was snuffed out of you, and I wasn't supposed to do that." He had to make Spock see that he couldn't say that stuff. The realization of it made him wish to rewind the clock, to gather the guts and the brains to set everything correctly if he had the chance. "I wasn't, Spock."

 

On his biobed, pumping with foreign blood, he watched it endlessly, unable to believe exactly what it looked like. McCoy grew used to the images, pandering to Jim's logic with a subtle joke, commenting that he didn't know Spock had it in him. With each day, he wanted McCoy to confirm, to simply confirm that he wasn't crazy without offering McCoy those burning thoughts himself. This wasn't some delusion, an idea his mind forged at the edge of life and death.

A shiver fell down his back, still processing the confirmation he'd run around endlessly.

 

Spock shut his eyes for a few moments, composing himself. His radiant glow dimmed as he moved to fix the straight strands of hair that didn't need fixing, a newly built habit. His body moved instinctively, still adapting to their reality, hence their old appearances.

Jim felt a chuckle threatening to escape, adoring the automatic gesture.

Spock parted his enticing lips, "I find it difficult to believe that I can dissect and analyze emotion more accurately than you, Jim."

It was an irony Jim didn't mind.

"Sorry to tell you," He said, captured by the one stubborn strand sticking up from Spock's head as a result of Spock's imprecise actions, "I don't have an advantage over you here. Not with this. I'm learning with you." If at all, he wanted to add.

Spock sucked in his bottom lip, inscrutable in his expression. Jim wanted to offer a hug, some form of contact, except they've passed their limits already.

Instead, and against reason, Jim rested his weight on his palm, leaning further to the other side of the couch, closing in on Spock's vicinity. He lifted his body up, bringing one knee on the cushion. He lost to that chuckle that had been fighting him, amused by Spock's rapid blinks and attempts to inch back when there was nowhere escape to.

"I need to fix this, Spock." He said flippantly like a mother, rolling his eyes when Spock appeared grim at the idea of whatever Jim wanted to do. However, all he wanted to do was set down this darn thing, sticking out in a haircut so pristine and particular.

He brought his thumb to his lips, and licked the thick pad of skin. Soon, he commenced to pat Spock's head until satisfied with the result.

"There. All done." He said, meeting Spock's face in full with a small curve to his lips. It was a smile that existed for a ridiculously short time; his whole body reacting to the intensity of Spock's stare.

 

Jim noticed that Spock wasn't looking at his face, but at his rising and falling chest, trickling further south. This was the sight of a person that saw control run away, becoming a mere ant in its distance.

Jim didn't dare speak or breathe, feeling caught red-handed when there wasn't a hint of contact between them, his thoughts still secured. There was an invisible pull, a yearning to close their remaining space. It ached to know that he was fighting instinct instead of his dreams and wishes.

He'd been here before, his old-self taking full advantage with a laugh between kisses, delighted by the feedback of his gestures, Spock smirking back with divine contentment.

He was fighting against instinct and that hurt more than the wishes. Spock was glued, stuck on how to react - Would it be logic or habit?

Spock's eyes darted back up to the curve of Jim's jaw, struggle turning into a tangible entity between them, becoming paralyzed with evident need. Jim knew in that moment that he could do whatever he wished. He could command obedience, and it would ensue immediately.

He could grab Spock by the chin and meet their lips together without restraint, his hands turning lighter and softer by the moment, owning him through their kiss alone.

Terror creeped back up, now an old friend. A few steps forward, and he did not intend to discover on how many steps that would throw him behind.

Finding his voice, he provided some logic to replace Spock's disappearing one, seeking Spock's hypnotized gaze.

 

"I'm not hungry." He lied, starving inside and out.

He was so fucking hungry, feeling every aspect of the want that became amplified by the memories of this neglected body. He craved to be taken apart, and to feel the shameless want thrumming through Spock in return.

For the first time, there was no argument of separation, when one used to always be keen on remaining with the other – at least joking of how they didn't want to let go.

 

_No, I'll skip shift._

_No, my responsibilities can resume at a later time - Preferably, much later._

_No, my reading can wait._

_No, I will order another to repair this instead._

_No, these kids can learn some darn patience._

_No, I need you._

 

With a sharp exhale, Spock wrenched himself from the devouring space and grabbed his keys, taking large strides towards the door, a grimace plastered on his tinted face.

This was going to be the longest commute of Jim's life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ED - Edmond Dhar


	75. POST SIM - PART TWENTY EIGHT

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick question: What would I classify this fic in a rec list?
> 
> Is this an AU?  
> AU divergence?  
> Should I keep the 'Major Character Death' tag?  
> Is this a Sickfic, Mindmeld, Violence, Smut, or Alien Biology fic?  
> This isn't only a Romance anymore. 
> 
> I thought of this, and I was like - 'Well, fuck. You really can't say.'
> 
> Anyways, back to the fic at hand - here is an update!  
> McCoy & Birney POV.
> 
> Song: Mortals by Warriyo  
> Warning: The Dhars & Tsuzuki's mouth
> 
> ~X

  **POST SIM - PART TWENTY EIGHT **

 

 

This was it. This was the final day Leonard would be here, and not because of some official release. He simply wouldn't show up.

Outright desertion.

Period.

Everyone else felt it best to disappear from sight anyways. There was no reason to continue like some slave during the rest of the time he had left on this planet. He'd done everything required of him and more.

His friends were cared for, and the majority of the Enterprise either chose not to take their SIM or already received their grades. He hoped for such, as he told M'Benga and Spock before, the best case scenario being the USS Enterprise making its statement to provide confidence in others – however, he never thought it would affect him in such a manner. He wanted to run away with them on the biggest middle finger they could ride on, flicking off whomever deserved it.

Nah. Who was he kidding?

Leonard didn't have the balls. If he wished to stay on the Enterprise, he would have to be granted permission to leave … and Jim couldn't save him this time.

 

Marching down the darkened corridor and into the public restroom, he turned towards his own reflection on the wall wide mirrors. He braced his palms on the last sink at the end of the elongated room, staring at himself. He was supposed to feel delighted, ecstatic and satisfied. Instead, he felt confused and stalled. He could still feel Christine's shaking hand as she sat on her biobed, airing out her final decision.

She couldn't do it.

The team never faced such a dilemma head on, marking people off a list of who showed and who didn't, but never have they seen someone make up their mind and practically run. Another set of operatives received the news and shut down all attempts to prepare her program.

In everyone's book, Christine never showed up.

They never logged it in.

 

Except she was there, reminding Leonard to take care of her again, then gripping on his coat and asking them to wait before they could begin the process to initiate stasis. Another moment, and she furiously shook her head. Once the apology rolled off her tongue, he understood exactly what she meant. She was sorry for making him stay here, stuck by her promise when he could have returned home.

If she made up her mind before, he could have gone home earlier, each day of great significance. And he yearned to return to the summer air, to the open field, surrounded by the aroma of freshly made pancakes, stuffing his face with his little girl. He yearned for the late night horror movies, the random tackles that ensued in the middle of tossing a football around, and their conversations.

He missed Jo's smile, and the more he thought of it, he didn't want to accept Christine's apology.

He cost her another two weeks.

 

An echoing clang in the middle of the sink propelled him out of his growing vexation, suddenly faced with a familiar bag. He knew the contents inside because he used them a dozen times over.

"I thought you might need those." M'Benga looked at himself next to Leonard, tilting his head and opening his own bag to take out a razor. "At this rate, we should consider laser hair removal."

That managed to rouse a laugh from Leonard, opening his own bag and running the water. "I'm not giving up what nature gave me 'cause I'm gettin' too lazy in my maintenance." He definitely liked to alter his look, except this wasn't the time to walk around like SIM Jim.

M'Benga smiled in return, a bigger one than what Leonard would deem normal.

"What's got you all so preppy?" Leonard asked.

M'Benga tapped his old fashioned razor on the edge of the sink twice, "Apparently, Spock got knowledge of my plans. It's all foiled now." He said with added humor.

The news wasn't so surprising, "He was bound to find out sooner or later, Jab."

"Knowing him, he'll fight me on it." M'Benga did a subtle teasing glance Leonard's way, an indication that Spock would surely lose.

"Then get ready to fight." He advised, hoping that it wouldn't be necessary.

With the way things were going, perhaps there was a chance that they could win, that things could return to normal … However, if the outcome wasn't one he liked, he doubted that things ever would be again. Their lives would change irreversibly, and with much thought into M'Benga's decision, Leonard leaned towards favoring it because of its benefits.

Spock couldn't outrun M'Benga. Spock would be safe and refrain from any self-recklessness with M'Benga present.

M'Benga then cleared his throat, "You know … I think it would be a good idea for you to get out of here now."

"Already on it." He admitted, sniffing at his tired reflection.

M'Benga showed him a hint of surprise, hiding it immediately, more happy that this didn't turn into some argument.

 

A loud groan took place on their right, both men turning with their faces half covered in shaving cream. Lee, the most worked person next to Kim, waltzed in the restroom, stretching his right arm over his head.

"To be honest, I think we're done for the day." Lee announced, yawning as he ran the water in his own sink and dunking his head closer to splash some of the falling liquid on his face. Lee was incorrect, because they weren't done for the day, even if the Andorian was late.

"The rest inside are getting ready to pack up and head on home." Lee then said.

"We still have to wait for the last person." Leonard responded, continuing with his shaving.

"Like he's coming." Lee laughed in response, wiping his wet cheek with the back on his hand.

"Point remains." M'Benga backed Leonard up, "We're waiting."

Leonard got two more streaks complete, making his entire face bare and clean. As he bent down to wash his face, he heard footsteps ensue behind him, coming closer instead of farther away, which meant Lee didn't leave. Someone entered.

M'Benga and Lee were oddly quiet, not greeting the person with the usual familiarity. This led Leonard to deduce that it was someone other than the currently assigned SIM Med team.

Curiosity tugging at his strings, he raised his head and noticed an indistinguishable figure behind him, both gloved hands clasped at the front as it looked down at them.

 

The strange man was of their height, dressed in a dark grey turtleneck, dark denim and outdoor boots. Nothing in that ensemble resembled Starfleet. He was built, strong and intimidating, the wrinkles on his face doing little to make his elderly age have any hindrance as to what this man could do if he put his mind to it.

Leonard noticed the workings of cosmetic surgery along the bridge of a nose most probably broken too many times, and tightness around the ends of his jaw, evidence of cut skin from a face-lift. It was old and bad work, void of any dermatological aftercare.

For shit sake, was that deliberate?

 

M'Benga narrowed his eyes, feeling the unsettling aura creep in, wiping his unfinished face with the cloth from his small bag.

Lee was the first to speak, "Hi?"

"You are Christopher Lee." It then pointed to M'Benga and Leonard, calling out their names as if reading off a mental list. He was robotic in his execution. "I have a message to deliver." It said, a curve of his lips showing, feigning downloaded human expression. "At the conclusion of test 0293VG07392, SIM participant, Terran resident, Lieutenant V'ek Grayensha, awoke on schedule with no mental or physical complications."

Leonard could tell this wasn't going to be pretty.

 

Lee flinched back, "What are you talking about? It was delayed by fifteen minutes – "

M'Benga instantly took to shushing Lee, saying that he should keep quiet.

"Who the hell are you?" Leonard questioned, taking a step forward and assessing the creepy person before him.

The man paid Leonard no mind, staring at him, but staring through him all the same. It was like Leonard wasn't a person, but an objective.

"V'ek Grayensha only inquired as to the length of her test and thanked you all for your services, soon taking her leave for her POST-SIM interview as expected of her."

Lee took to shouting at the man, forgetting M'Benga's suggestion of total silence, "That woman assaulted McCoy!"

Leonard heavily sighed in response, thinking that a slap was hardly classified as assault.

It didn't matter that a Vulcan executed it, and that he had to save a molar to prevent any asbestos fluid buildup from the traumatic impact.

Nope.

No assault took place.

"I don't care!" Leonard shouted back when Lee looked to have wanted to carelessly utter more. He directed his eyes on M'Benga to make sure Lee kept quiet. They had no idea who this person was or who he worked for. He sure as hell wasn't Starfleet… and if he was, that kind of scared him even more.

Leonard continued, "I don't care. I don't know where you heard this from, I don't care what you believe to have happened here - but you can't order us 'round. We already have enough of that." He was still curious to find out who this man was, because it didn't care for their actual versions of truth. It seemed to not be surprised by Lee's statement, just carrying on in his own words, which made Leonard realize that this man already knew. How this man came across this knowledge was beyond Leonard.

That was Grayensha's moment to burden, not his.

The stranger tilted his head - his healthy and full platinum strands flowing along his face, his dark orbs boring onto Leonard's chest, like it was a target, "'I'm not implying that other events took place in your workplace. The only thing that happened is what I just told you."

 

Bingo. This man wasn't here to clarify anything.

He was here to create.

 

"I don't know what you're yappin' on about, but we don't speak of anyone's SIM."

"But if asked of a SIM participant's behavior prior to the initiation of their program, or after by some insect of a reporter, or ordered by a superior, you would answer truthfully. Now _when_ it comes to that, you are to say that Ms. Grayensha was an exceptional participant. Textbook case."

Leonard took to challenging him, not satisfied by being ordered by someone he couldn't name, let alone be sure of its specie. "And what if we don't?" He dared to say.

 

Oh fuck, it smiled.

It smiled, showing all of its fake, too perfect set of teeth. If a man could afford veneers like that, then the obvious neglect of facial repairs didn't make a lick of sense.

 

"We all want what's best for our friends. My boss wants what's best for your friends too. Ms. Grayensha has a very busy day in front of her, and I can't have you all jeopardizing her chances or her credibility. She's a leader, easy to trust and uncompromised. So it would be in everyone's best interest to be truthful, because what I say is the truth. Anything outside of the truth will not be pleasant for either of you."

 

…He was on their side, and yet he reeked of evildoings.

Yep, this didn't make a lick of sense.

 

"You're threatening us …" Leonard discerned, too smart to make it a question. He heard M'Benga curse behind him, suddenly not worried for him, but for everyone around him, and everyone that was in Ms. Grayensha's overlooking medical team.

"Those days are behind me, gentlemen. I would not be silly as to threaten you." It sounded too bored by the prospect, "Threats are so puerile. It's the tactic of a rookie, if anything. I'm only reminding you all to uphold your oaths and remain _truthful_. We would all benefit, correct? Especially that Captain of yours – your friends, no?"

"No lies." Lee answered, M'Benga nodding immediately. They wouldn't have given in so easily if the request weren't reasonable.

 

It was something they were doing regardless, hence Leonard's blatant order to not log in Grayensha's reaction, feeling like they deserved it all. It was their first case with a telepath, seeing what the extent of the SIM could really do.

They dreaded her reaction for days as she slept.

She didn't deserve any ill words or rumors, especially if she was taking a stand, trying to help her people – helping them in the process.

When he looked at her pain, he saw Spock all over again, becoming utterly absorbed by the hatefulness of Jim's excessive jibes on the Enterprise bridge. He looked at her, and he saw betrayal, none that she deserved after what she had endured in and out of the SIM.

The stranger blinked at them, his smile now fallen. Leonard questioned if the thing breathed oxygen or needed to be recharged on the regular.

 

"Dr. Park Hyun Kim should be made known of this as well, and if I hear of anything outside of the truth, she's the first one I will meet, inquiring as to why." It said, unclasping his gloved hands and walking towards the door with a confident sway. Leonard looked over the man's profile, concluding that although he couldn't see a weapon, he knew this stranger had one. "And I sincerely hope we don't meet again."

What kind of thing was this?

"Good day."

**.**

**.**

**.**

 

Lt. Felicity and Ensign Birney tiredly glanced at each other, practically numb to Tsuzuki's panicked frenzy. All with a coffee in hand, they strolled down a sidewalk on an abandoned park, late into the night, looking sketchier than ever before.

Some of the other SIM operatives spoke of how they ended their friendships with other officers, always gravitating towards fellow operatives. Birney laughed it off before. She soon learned that she was clearly wrong, and they were right. Tsuzuki said it first, calling them SIM siblings – all stuck together from force.

No one asked for this, and yet they weren't comfortable with any other form of company.

 

Tsuzuki was the only one pulling his hair in the group, something irking him, "We're fucked."

"Calm down." Felicity sighed, tucking a loose section of hair in the back of her ear.

"They know." Tsuzuki husked out, not required to say Spock and Kirk's name for the rest to know he was speaking of them.

Weston didn't jibe back, silent and slow in his walk. He looked dead as ever, probably feeling the dread of being suspended for breaching his contract like the rest of them.

"We didn't get an alert. None of them have requested our identities." Felicity said, everyone knowing damn well that it was only a matter of time.

"You don't get it, guys!" Tsuzuki urged on, tapping one of his front teeth with a nail, echoing the irritating sound around them. "I messed up big time."

"Yeah, I know." Birney monotonously replied, thinking of Tsuzuki's recently announced self-sabotage, "Like, didn't you get what you wanted? You got the Enterprise. You're an idiot if I didn't already say so in every breath."

"That's not what I mean!"

"Then speak up!" She shouted back with a shake to her head, feeling her open coiled fro swaying from the quick movement.

"My dumb ass quoted Cervantes." Tsuzuki moaned like a child, "My dumb ass almost called Mr. Spock ' _Chief'_!"

 

Birney heard Felicity smack her forehead with alarming aggression, not needing to turn her head to see it for herself.

 

"My dumb ass couldn't even look Mr. Spock in the eye." Tsuzuki let out a low aggravated scream, still dramatic as ever. "My dumb ass could barely speak. My dumb ass almost asked them how they were, like we were friends or some shit."

"We're not their friends." Felicity scoffed, "We're not their crew. Avoid them when you can. Lord knows I am."

"We just hold their ghosts." Weston spoke out for the first time, stopping in his step. "Don't involve yourself. Staying away from the Enterprise is the smartest thing you've ever done."

 

Birney hated how correct Weston was in this, their situation being a unique one. They were already receiving disgusted looks left and right, the information spreading fast. If only she knew that accepting this position was damning in every way. At this rate, any ship they were assigned to would be a floating hot box of palpable tension, unable to escape the vastness of space.

None of them knew how to respond.

 

Soon, a buzz engulfed the silence and interrupted the calming effect of the smooth breeze whisking over their loose clothes and their unkempt hair, the grass around their feet dancing.

It came from Weston's pocket, who moved to grab his device with swiftness.

 

"What the – " His eyes widened behind his glowing glasses, "What's going on?" He asked them.

Birney quizzically stared at her former co-worker, tilting her head with confusion.

"You need to be clearer, dude." Tsuzuki aired out, moving towards the frozen Lt. Commander.

"I restored and reconfigured my entire home system, because I noticed one unauthorized installment - " Weston blinked a few times, typing vigorously on his comm after placing his drink down on the grass. "It's malware, clearly. My holocam is covered per usual, and yet it gets randomly activated, the recording light being the brightest thing in the room. I see it at night..."

 

Birney shivered, the breach of privacy being too creepy for her ears.

She hated her vivid imagination.

 

"An invasion." Felicity concluded the obvious, disturbed by where Weston was leading with this.

"It's just – " Weston exhaled, looking to want to throw his comm to some random tree, "There's a signature to it. With my modifications, my system should detect it easier. And … it just did. Again."

Birney puffed up her cheeks, unsettled to the deepest level of her mind, "You're being hacked."

"What could you have that's worth hacking?" Felicity skeptically questioned.

"That's not the proper question." Weston tsked, "The proper question is who?"

"Yeah." Tsuzuki agreed. "So whom did you piss off?"

"And _why_." Birney reminded Weston of the importance factor, not willing to push that aside.

"This keeps happening." Weston whispered to himself, another vibration coming from the comm in his palms. "I have to go." He muttered, walking backwards with his eyes still glued to his device. He didn't care for his drink either.

"Weston?" Birney called to the retreating man, "Weston?!"

 

But Weston was a little figure, nearing the end of the park, running to his parked craft.

 

"I don't like this." Felicity said. "I don't need this. Not when I'm about to leave this damned country."

"I doubt it's serious." Birney chuckled, total denial radiating from her pores.

"It's Weston." Tsuzuki said, "Man's the closest human to a Vulcan. It's fuckin' serious."

 

None of them felt comfortable in the dark anymore, feeling eyes on them from every angle. With Birney's activity within the SIM Assembly, along with many accomplished and sincere officers, including Weston, she was starting to believe that maybe she wasn't so horrible - That she could help some people to erase some of her wrongdoings.

She heard Tsuzuki forewarn them, reminding them to double check their home terminals, accounts and portable devices.

"It's not Starfleet." Birney hopelessly opined, rubbing her temples to ease her paranoia. What she was thinking was a tad bit on the dramatic side, laughing at the ideas her mind could conjure.

"We have nothing they want." Felicity affirmed with a tight smile.

"And if they did, they could simply threaten us to get it. We're already their bitches." Tsuzuki aired out their dirtiest truth with too much ease, "They wouldn't stoop so low as to stalk our activities and sneak into our devices. They have other shit to deal with."

"So who?" Birney asked, not satisfied with their answers.

Felicity simply shrugged in return, "Hopefully it's just a personal matter."

"Right …" If things didn't improve, Birney would propose that she be stuffed in one of Felicity's suitcase, escaping to South Africa.

 

Far, far away from here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more SIM operative based chapter (or half chapter) sometime later in this fic.


	76. POST SIM - PART TWENTY NINE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is a quick Spock POV before we get back to our beloved Jimmy.
> 
> Warning: N/A  
> Song: Let The River In by Dotan
> 
> ~X

  **POST SIM - PART TWENTY NINE **

> _**Lincoln: ** _ _It's Hot 93.4 in this sunny morning. Let's begin by bestowing the honor for 'DINGBAT' of the day._
> 
> _** Varra:  ** _ _Oh, my god. I already know this -_
> 
> _** Lincoln:  ** _ _First Officer of the USS Xīwàng - Commander Linda Fey!_
> 
> _** Varra:  ** _ _Why're you giving her the DINGBAT of the day? I find that hardly fair._
> 
> _** Lincoln:  ** _ _All is fair in -_
> 
> _** Varra:  ** _ _\- love and war?_
> 
> _** Lincoln:  ** _ _There's no love here. Just war and bystanders are equal to the enemy._
> 
> _** Grayensha:  ** _ _If I can interject here -_
> 
> _** Lincoln:  ** _ _Go 'head. You're our lovely guest for the day. Say whatever you feel._
> 
> _** Grayensha:  ** _ _Commander Fey has an exceptional record. She is a leader within the Academy. She is a trusted colleague. I agree with Ms. Varra in that to deem her such a derogatory term is unfair._
> 
> _** Lincoln:  ** _ _Well, you're here._
> 
> _** Grayensha:  ** _ _Affirmative._
> 
> _** Lincoln:  ** _ _And she's not. Instead, she's ignoring all inquiries towards something we civilians are only trying to understand. You're here to give us another aspect of it. You're speaking. You want to help your people. If Fey were such a leader, she wouldn't have told that poor cameraman to piss off._
> 
> _** Varra:  ** _ _We all would have told him to piss off. He was all up in her face. I bet she felt threatened._
> 
> _** Lincoln:  ** _ _She has a registered phaser. She could take out a group of individuals while speaking to them in each of their native tongues. She's the Commander of the second biggest ship for a reason! Threatened my puny a -_
> 
> _**Varra:**_ _Language!_
> 
> _** Grayensha:  ** _ _Regardless of her accomplishments, it is most inappropriate to approach someone with such crassness. Perhaps the Commander would prefer a proper setting such as this._
> 
> _** Lincoln:  ** _ _That's very nice of you._
> 
> _** Grayensha:  ** _ _Explain._
> 
> _** Lincoln:  ** _ _You think this a nice environment. I might even go as far as to say you think I'm nice._
> 
> _** Grayensha:  ** _ _I think your manners far exceed the individual that approached Commander Fey. However, if that is all you have to offer, 'nice' is an overzealous characteristic._
> 
> _** Varra:  ** _ _Burn!_
> 
> _** Lincoln:  ** _ _Spicy._
> 
> _** Grayensha:  ** _ _A mere observation._
> 
> _** Varra:  ** _ _I think I love you!_

**.**

**.**

**.**

 

> _** Lincoln:  ** _ _All I'm saying is that this seems like some kind of revenge. Starfleet looses almost all of its people, including cadets, which shouldn't have been on ships at the time - trying to help you all._
> 
> _** Grayensha:  ** _ _Whichever way you perceive it - Hurting a group is an unproductive response to the tragedy that has faced us all. We are fusing our efforts together to build a prosperous future. That is our prime objective._
> 
> _** Varra:  ** _ _They're forcing you to lose what makes you 'you'. I've spoken about this endlessly, and that still baffles me._
> 
> _** Grayensha:  ** _ _I concur. The spontaneous anomalous treatment has yet to cease perplexing me._
> 
> _** Lincoln:  ** _ _How did it make you feel when you woke up? Pissed I'd bet._
> 
> _** Grayensha:  ** _ _I will not deny the surprise - the brewing feeling of anger. If asked years ago, I would claim it to be a foreign emotion - however as you know - I have experienced this before. Nevertheless, I will add that upon awaking, I felt no different than a rat._
> 
> _** Lincoln:  ** _ _What?_
> 
> _** Varra:  ** _ _Oh, I see what you mean. That's not a pretty thing to hear._
> 
> _** Grayensha:  ** _ _Most definitely not._
> 
> _** Lincoln:  ** _ _It was more than an evaluation - it was something else. An experiment._
> 
> _** Grayensha:  ** _ _It is a program that turns us into testing subjects, clueless to what is being conducted around us. Our behavior with each round is analyzed. You are correct. It is science, the screen being the maze and the scientists cloaked in Admiral silvers._
> 
> _Some have called it a game._
> 
> _In my perspective, I call it vivisection._

**.**

**.**

**.**

 

**#-##-#-##-#-##-#**

**I have to meet her.**

**\- JTK**

**#-##-#-##-#-##-#**

Today was a day of much success.

Despite the heated arguments that ensued between Gregory and Spock himself, the interview preparation turned into an informative and beneficial session. The interview that followed had an extremely positive, and frightening response.

"Spock, what is my purpose for attending this meeting?" V'ek asked Spock as they sat in his hovercraft parked on the side of Jim's home, the driveway full of other hovercrafts he recognized, "And the setting is far from professional. We appear to be conspiring."

"They are expecting you." Spock informed her, sincere in his words.

Unfortunately, they were not taken as such. "I was beside you the entire time. Not once have you called or messaged Dr. McCoy, informing him that I would arrive with you."

Ah, she desired to know of McCoy's thoughts individually. Considering that V'ek informed her that her behavior POST-SIM was an embarrassing one, it made sense.

In fact, Spock wanted her to apologize for it, except he knew McCoy would erase it away.

"Dr. McCoy is a colleague and friend." He simply replied, "He will not be angered by your attendance." And the doctor was already informed of this.

McCoy knew better than to react harshly towards V'ek.

… Hopefully.

V'ek would not take kindly to titles such as _'hobgoblin'_ and ' _green-blooded'_ anything.

"You might be underestimating the circumstances." She said, dissatisfied. "You have yet to know all the details of what I have said, and what I have done to him and the entire medical team. He is either terrified or terrified."

"McCoy happens to operate exceptionally well in the face of terror." He has witnessed enough situations to confidently conclude as such. This was no different. "He might claim that they are well acquainted."

V'ek raised a brow, pulling a mirror down to swipe one finger under her bangs to straighten them out in perfection.

 

It was odd that she kept to a style many males chose. The females of his species had hair follicles on their scalp growing at a much faster rate, rendering any short style a hardship to maintain. The stands at the back of her head alone have grown two inches since their last meeting.

Vanity was not the reason to perfect her bangs since they were growing slightly over her brows, most of the strands swaying to the left side of her face so that they did not block her sight.

Nervousness could easily have been the other possibility.

 

"By your statement, you are speaking of preforming in a satisfactory manner under duress on the USS Enterprise." V'ek enunciated every word as if each one was absurd in its own right, "This here, is a social gathering. Not the USS Enterprise."

"A de-briefing of sorts." Spock clarified.

She pushed the mirror up and gave Spock a quick look filled with skepticism, her honey lips pouting, "Regardless, the scenarios are not identical."

Spock did a little shake to his head, eventually seeing a light turn on behind one of the windows of Jim's home, "You are overestimating more than I am underestimating the circumstances."

"By each second, our circumstances are worsening." She said as she looked on the clock on the dashboard, "We are late by twenty two minutes and seven sec – "

"Twenty three minutes." Spock corrected, "You are nervous, V'ek."

For a reason unknown, V'ek pulled the mirror back down and frowned at her reflection, unsatisfied with the one stubborn elongated strand, disturbing her overall look. She huffed, "Exposing my nervousness will not conceal yours. Although I cannot deduce as to why you would be nervous."

Spock's right eye twitched, turning his face away in order to hide it.

"This is your crew." V'ek continued, narrowing her eyes at Spock, "I was under the impression that they were also your … friends."

"Indeed they are." Spock immediately answered without thought and let out a heavy sigh. It was as if these two switched roles. He couldn't have been more naked.

V'ek's confusion became evident with each minuscule change to her face, each different expression being a reflection of a new thought.

"Neither you, nor I, nor even your father could have hypothesized the turn of events, because we are simple people. We think alike. We do not fight to obtain logic from others, merely accepting that this is their way." She provided a small reassuring curve to her lips, "Multiple Federation species made it evident that they wished to fight for their logic. Your informed us that your Captain was among them."

Spock was gritting his teeth behind closed lips. He had to look ahead because he didn't trust his eyes in that very moment.

V'ek continued, relentless,"You were willing to respectfully retreat, like all of us - and now you are questioning if you still have a place because this has become another reminder of how you differ – "

"The reductive nature of your statements are very surprising." He finally said, unable to hear any more. He was not actually hurt by what she has discerned, but hurt by its accuracy.

Suddenly, the little tight smile fell from existence, and V'ek enclosed her fists. "I will not speak of it again - "

It was a peculiar change to her overall demeanor. Spock delivered his words without harshness – if anything it was a mere observation. He did not mean to insult.

She should have understood this.

"There is much modification required for my social skills. I have been told on numerous occasions by it."

"It?" The word caught Spock's attention, and he did not intend to ignore it." "Did _'It'_ identify with a gender of their species?"

"It identified as a female." She answered with her eyes shut as if imagining it again. "Add-On 97Q6. A human female."

"If we are to continue discussing our simulations, V'ek - it would be proper to speak of those we have met by what they have introduced themselves as. I am certain Add-On 97Q6 did not introduce herself as such."

V'ek's eyelids slightly fluttered, a glistening presenting itself. "Anum."

"And this 'Anum' … Would you classify her as your 'friend'?"

V'ek's thin fingers rose up so that she could stroke the side of her growing raven strands, "She believed so. I never called her one, and yet she never cared for titles. Looking back, she was indeed a friend. In fact, she made certain that my hair was in pristine condition, cutting along my nape whenever we had the spare time." She then proceeded to caress the back of her neck, feeling along the straight line of hair, "It seemed so trivial – keeping to my look when there were many more tasks that required completion. She stated that it was a crucial reminder of home – an indicator of my identity. Each braid she created on her own long mane was of significance to her – so ... she cut my hair, indulging in my hidden sentiments."

 

As she spoke, all Spock could see was Jim mumbling to himself, pacing in the middle of their secluded home. He could see the shock causing Jim to pause in his movements, retreating from his own thoughts to zoom into Spock's new appearance. It was an appearance that made Spock feel more naked than ever, truthfully.

Spock could see the slow; heart filled smile creasing up in relief. For Spock, it was incredibly odd, for his recent actions should have sparked fear. Fear that he was exposing himself in such a way by returning to this image of himself.

Fear that he was exposing them. He may as well have smeared his blood along his forehead.

Except, with the removal of this security blanket, Jim's adoration crashed into him and there was … relief.

_"You shouldn't have had to hide to begin with."_

Spock surpassed a shiver at the reminder.

 

"Anum may not have cared for titles, but imagine her reaction if you had referred to her as Add-On 97Q6?" In Spock's attempt to comfort her, he noticed how the subtle dimples disappeared on the Lieutenant's face. "That would be quite the altercation."

V'ek raised both brows, "I believe there would not be a single hair follicle remaining on my scalp."

With that, Spock could conclude that he somewhat succeeded in improving her mood.

She shook her head, "Look at us, our ancestors would grimace at our behavior."

 

It was a humorous comment, however Spock deeply disagreed. One portion of their history contained ancestors that were locked inside in every way, terrified of the emotions their DNA contained.

An older aspect was that their ancestors carelessly allowed those emotions to override everything, committing senseless acts, fueled and filled with desperation on dependence, incessant lust and terrorizing savagery.

All sides of history were disturbing in their own ways.

Whichever ancestors V'ek referred to, Spock briefly wondered if they would be proud at the medium they were close to reaching.

**.**

**.**

**.**

As they both made their way towards the door, Spock reached a dilemma. If he took a few steps further, the door would open without pause. It would open, recognizing Spock as it always did, as it always should have - however, it would arise a few questions from V'ek, the quickness of it not going unmissed.

V'ek halted in her step, calling to Spock before the problem could present itself.

He saw her point to the bright hovercraft behind them, which was in the most disagreeable shade of yellow Spock's ever seen. His eyes widening at the excessive and disarranged black lightening designs on it, especially the interchanging shining lights illuminating from the bottom.

The passenger seat swooshed up, revealing the most unexpected person.

 

"She has peculiar tastes in transportation, Spock." V'ek blurted out to a surprised Spock, tilting her head to get a view of one elongated leg sticking out on the side, glistening with the glow of dawn above a mountain.

Nyota exited the craft and waved farewell to the unknown driver, whom Spock was unable to see, incapable of grasping any features for even the briefest of moments. Music boomed from the vehicle as it sped away, leaving Nyota alone.

She turned to Spock, and seemed ready to scream his name with an animated smile, except her hand and smile dropped when she noticed V'ek. Instead, she simply marched their way, a bounce to her open waves.

Spock mourned in that moment that there would not be a single endearing hug, laugh and smile, for she always cared for Spock's appearance in public.

V'ek interchanged glances, sparing each of them an odd expression with her hands behind her back. She stepped back, giving Nyota and Spock some privacy, which was preposterous. With Vulcan hearing, privacy was but an illusion.

"You are here." Spock uttered, wishing to strike himself on the forehead for stating the obvious. He was thankful he was unable to see V'ek's reaction.

A little grin appeared on Nyota's freshly tanned face, "I told you I would be."

"They would have understood," Spock began, but Nyota interjected with a light scoff.

"A day is more than enough to return, and it's not like I needed to be told that it was time to come back." She chided as she nudged her chin in V'ek's direction, one eyebrow up in question.

"A lot has transpired since your departure, Nyota." He once again mentioned the obvious, currently questioning if he short-circuited.

Nyota moved her head to take a peek, her waves falling to the side. She was assessing what to do, considering their situation and previously mutual agreements in regards to contact, if there was any allowed. She never had to think long of it before, always collected in how to approach Spock in any setting, regardless of their relationship.

Nevertheless, professionalism became obsolete, Spock giving her the one thing she needed to just look at him more human-like, "I am pleased by your attendance. Your absence has been… difficult – " He confessed. He wished to have said this earlier.

Nyota brightened up and did a quick turn to V'ek, whom was more interested at Jim's door than them. She then turned back to Spock, holding him in the next second.

Instead of standing still as he usually did before, he held her like he did with so many others that never existed.

With her cheek brushing his, he felt everything she was thinking and feeling, her mental echoes of her reaction to recent events being received simultaneously. There was so much she yearned to say, but she understood that this was not the time.

Nyota could if she truly wished, since Spock would answer every one of her queries. In the end, she expressed one thing clearly to the Universe, making sure there was no room for doubt.

"I've missed you too."


	77. POST SIM - PART TWENTY NINE (2)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Double Update!  
> We are back to Jimmy's POV!
> 
> Song: Nothing More by Yoe Mase  
> Warning: ... plot & personal POST-STID headcanon?
> 
> ~X

**POST SIM - PART TWENTY NINE (2) **

Once Bones described Franklin Mason in eerie detail, Jim buried his face in his palms. He swallowed himself in raw vexation, the very mental state muting out Sulu's, Chekov's and Scott's banter from behind his room door.

Those _fucking_ dragons!

"You need to be careful around those people, Jim. I know you're workin' with them, but god dammit!" McCoy iterated, truly concerned for his friend. "I don't care if they're on our side - that _thing_ would have happily thrown our severed limbs all over Starfleet Headquarters."

Remembering all those video comms and knowing of Mason's skills, such as getting on President Chen's private property without detection - Jim believed McCoy one hundred percent. He came to that conclusion way before this shit happened.

...But wasn't that what they needed? If only Mason could redirect that towards the Admirals.

"Did Lt. Grayensha do anything that could hurt her image - to discredit her?" Jim asked, knowing that such an odd encounter couldn't have occurred unless something actually happened.

Grayensha must have confided in the Dhars of something …

McCoy swallowed, looking towards the closed door, then back with a sigh as he slouched his shoulders. "Their precautions were excessive. That's all I wanna tell you."

Jim had no choice but to accept the matter and his friend's explanation. He wouldn't push. "You won't see him again."

"I believe you."

It was a simple answer - a simple sentiment - a response that had zero hesitation, a genuine belief that Jim would not only endeavor, but also succeed to make certain that McCoy wasn't going to be put in harm's way. McCoy wasn't looking at him as his patient anymore. He spoke as a crewmember trusting his Captain.

It was too much to take in, "I don't want you to leave, Bones."

McCoy offered a wry smile, "Work's a callin', kid."

"I'll make sure your petition goes through." Jim aired out, working on any loopholes to get McCoy out of this mess. He was becoming desperate enough to consider asking the Dhars for help, even after what he'd just discovered.

"We lost too many resources - it's becoming more unlikely by the day."

Jim didn't care. McCoy belonged home.

Not here.

This was his time on Earth just as much as anyone else. McCoy didn't ask to get a place near Jim's. He didn't ask to overlook Jim's care.

McCoy didn't ask for this SIM, his morale forcing him to accept the nomination to his position to overlook the crew, his people, and his friends. He didn't ask for shit to be piled on shit.

 

McCoy flashed his teeth once the others outside got louder, Jim's mother being the loudest in her greeting.

The rest must have arrived.

Jim and McCoy settled their conversation and made their way out, witnessing the others hugging, the reunion being an extremely late one.

Uhura animatedly rubbed the top of Chekov's shaved head with a dropped jaw, saying something about how she wanted to offer some of her hair in pity. Chekov responded, saying that a change was much needed.

"Since when?" Uhura questioned.

"Since I woke up." Chekov awkwardly answered. "It is a long, stupid story."

Jim heard Chekov's chuckle, knowing that the story was indeed long - but not stupid.

Never stupid.

Uhura then asked about Demora and Ben, with which Sulu's gleamed in response, rolling his eyes to state that everything was the same. Chaotic, which was the same.

She slouched her shoulders, placating her arms to Scott. She patiently waited for a hug with a disappointed expression, wondering as to why Scott didn't jump at the opportunity, still seated on one of the couches.

Scott slowly stood up with tightened lips, went in for the hug and shut his eyes, relishing in the moment. He did a subtle nod to his head on her shoulder, indicating that he was responding to something. She was whispering in Scott's ear, Jim concluded.

 

In that moment, everyone looked better. They looked to have had hope.

 

"This is the only time I'll hug you, Kirk. Take it in, savor it and revel in the feeling of my phenomenal presence." She announced with a smile that fought to shine in its full potential, surely enough to blind them all.

Ignoring the need to cackle in her face or throw a regular jibe, he accepted it and felt her undeniable consolation. She didn't feel the need for words, her actions speaking for her.

"I feel left out." McCoy feigned rejection with a shake of his head.

The room erupted in laughter, Uhura retracting her limbs to give McCoy a well deserved hug.

 

Jim noticed that Spock appeared amused, whispering something to Grayensha, who was listening closely as she unclasped her hands. Jim somehow felt the air kicked out of him by Spock's stare, everyone in the room being too distracted by Uhura and McCoy's embrace.

He should have been immune to such a look by now.

Regardless, they were all together and maybe … just maybe … everything would be fine, because what he saw here was what was normal - the right way of the Universe.

 

"Who wants snacks?" Winona announced with a loud clap and cheer fitting for a twelve year old.

"Now darlin', you are speaking my language." McCoy cheekily responded, uncaring for the odd stares he received.

“Still the flatterer!” She replied, twirling a blonde strand with her fingers.

"Only to you."

 

If Jim regurgitated a bit, he hid it well.

**.**

**.**

**.**

 

With most of the people seated somewhere in the living room, Jim watched everyone become entranced by V'ek Grayensha as they ate their cucumber sandwiches and cream cheese crackers. Jim could admit that her presence intrigued him, especially by what he had seen and heard so far.

She introduced herself in an overly formal manner, showing a face of shocking satisfaction by Jim's Vulcan greeting, ta'al and all. It was no secret that Jim and everyone else intrigued her in return. He could say she looked to be out of place, not by her fault, but by her own self-imposed sense of displacement. It was expected, thankfully seeming to settle a bit once she became accustomed to them. The humor remained in that Grayensha clearly expected this to be a professional environment.

The nonsensical chatter in the gathering showed that it absolutely was not, his mother being the loudest again, taken by the people her son worked with.

 

The mood then shifted once Chekov asked Grayensha as to why her and all the other Vulcans used last names, unlike Spock and the Ambassador.

Spock immediately furrowed his brows, not appearing to be insulted or offended, but in concern as he turned to Grayensha. Jim stepped closer to Spock, sending every signal as to ask of what was wrong, because something clearly was.

The room went silent once it became apparent that Grayensha didn’t want to answer.

As Jim expected, Spock intervened, forever the protector, “I will answer your query at a later time.”

“Oh.” Chekov said, blinking six times too many, knowing that he messed something up.

Something Jim didn’t understand.

Grayensha then cleared her throat and provided a solemn gaze. “Mr. Chekov, it is common knowledge that our family names are too complicated for the human tongue – “

Uhura stuffed her face with half a sandwich to prevent a chuckle. Jim could only remember how he took days to say Spock’s family name correctly - A worthy endeavor, more proud than he should have been.

He would be a fool to say that it was _just_ a name.

“With that in mind,” Grayensha continued, “Since there are more of us residing on Terra, we though it fitting to utilize a second name for documentation and recognition purposes.”

“So they are made up?” Chekov oddly asked, wary if he even should. Poor guy.

Jim held his drink with one hand, and when he moved closer to Spock, he used the other to provide a comforting touch, slowly moving up and down in long strokes. Spock slowly began to release the tension, his back softening and stiff muscles relaxing.

“Some are a more simplified version of our family names, some carry meaning that is of significant for said individual, and others are first names we have decided to borrow from our deceased.” Grayensha said, receiving saddened and fallen faces. “For instance, Grayensha is a fusion of both my parents’ names.”

Winona was the first to give her condolences, the others following suit right after. Jim gave her a soft smile, soon filling his throat with acidic cranberry juice.

“Seems overly sentimental for a species that avoids it at all costs.” Scotty said, Jim thanking God for the tension cutting comment.

“We are well aware of the irony, I assure you.” Grayensha responded, sucking in her lips like she wanted to hide her own laugh.

Soon, each compliment on how she handled the morning show, especially Varra, was met with a tint to her cheeks. Jim noticed that she actively motioned to fix the sides of her hair. A fidgeter - One would have never guessed with the way she carried herself to the public.

"You have achieved celebrity status. A force to not be messed with now." Scott joked after Chekov mentioned at how no one would stop talking about her at the SIM Assembly meeting today.

Uhura was the most fascinated, shamelessly leaning closer to Grayensha’s colored face - "You handled their illogical banter with such charisma. I wouldn't even trust Spock in that room."

 

They all laughed in response, McCoy being the only one who didn't, still honing onto Grayensha with an apprehensive posture, having yet to comment on the light conversation. Grayensha did attempt to say something to him before, only for McCoy to cut her off, shaking his head and stating that it wasn't necessary.

Jim had no idea as to what was necessary and what was not, seeing as he had _nothing_ to go on.

 

She stood still, perplexed. Not too long though, for Uhura was fascinated by her, taking up all her attention.

"Spock is more knowledgeable on how to endure such an atmosphere - " Grayensha responded, her confusion clear.

"Just because he can tolerate us, doesn't mean he can tolerate a bunch of unsaturated gossiping heathens." Sulu replied, seated next to Scott as if they were conducting one of their summaries again.

Winona lifted her cranberry juice filled glass, "From what I’ve seen, I doubt Mr. Spock can tolerate you guys, much less my son." She snickered.

Spock didn't appear affected, leaning on the wall in front of all the couches next to Jim, only humming at the sentiment, "I have overcome the illogicality that is my crew."

"Hardly." McCoy scoffed, earning a few chuckles.

 

Jim had to hide his smile. His crew, Spock said.

Spock's crew.

Admissions like those could almost fool Jim into thinking nothing was at risk, but the foundation was shaking - a silent, dormant volcano, overdue of an eruption.

 

If things were to fail, it would be Pompeii.

 

"You must come to a SIM Assembly meeting." Chekov offered, Sulu agreeing immediately. "It can be uncomfortable, granted, but it is a pleasing experience, Ms. Grayensha."

"I've tried it." Sulu said, scratching the back of his neck. "He wouldn't offer unless it was beneficial. Trust me."

Grayensha merely stared at them, her cheeks still holding that same hue, never given the chance to die down. "I am not certain of what to say - "

"Say whatever comes to mind. Any of it." Scott immediately responded, resting his elbows on his knees. "The good, the bad, the ugly."

"Or you could listen," Jim suggested, feeling Spock's eyes on him. "Speaking isn't for everyone and these reliable sources here claim that it's a good environment."

"I could accompany you, if you wish." Spock offered.

"There is no pressure." Chekov added with another smile, flashing his teeth.

Then Grayensha did this thing that became impossible to not notice. She turned to Spock, the hesitation on her face only softened by his subtle nod. She turned back to them, her eyes smizing.

"It is a generous proposal worth considering." She answered, swallowing from their cheers in return, knowing that it was the best answer they could receive. Their reactions were too animated, almost childish - she probably assumed they were insane.

Jim didn't cheer. Instead, he slowed his breathing, moving his index finger under his bottom lip in thought.

She belonged too easily.

"Well," Jim said to them, catching their attention, "Let's not forget the things we have to discuss."

"I thought they were all here for my food." Winona said, earning more laughs that the crew failed to conceal behind their palms. McCoy clinked glasses with her, the two easily friendly with the other since they spoke many time beforehand in Jim's worse days.

At this rate, they wouldn’t get anything done.

"I will begin." Spock spoke after, taking a step forward in a stance of a First Officer, "Ambassador Negruth of Tellar Prime has announced that all Federation related negotiations are on recess. As the USS Xavier makes return to the Sol system, Admiral Shorkirc and Admiral Alvas will return from Tellar Prime to continue the remaining ten percent SIM judgments of the Antigone, the Enterprise crew now complete as of 0700. They are to also execute judgments of the USS Xavier and USS Farragut."

"Someone has to replace them on Tellar." Uhura pointed out, crossing one leg over the other.

"Yes, but we're not yet sure of whom." Jim pointed out that unfortunate tad bit.

"Regardless, everyone should return for the hearing that is to take place prior to any testing of the USS Xavier once the date is set." Spock informed them of the fact so simply, one could easily forget that it was this ominous event ticking over them … tick, tick.

Jim had to clear his throat, "Then you know how it goes from there."

"The President arrives with her cabinet - " Grayensha explained, setting off a chain of uttered facts from the others.

"- Consisting of appointed Admirals," McCoy mentioned, so that they didn't forget that sad, sad fact.

"Which includes all those that are grading SIMs - " Chekov groaned as he rubbed his temples.

Jim wanted to do the same, "- Then this is where the Ambassadors come in."

"As informed from my father - " Spock continued, "He is still endeavoring to gather the unofficial votes. Thus far, he has concluded that the termination of the SIM is leading in majority."

"Let's not get our hopes up yet." Uhura said as she flimsily waved her hand, "The remaining Cabinet is an iffy thing - "

Spock scrunched his nose at the unpredictability, despite the confidence statistics should have given them, "With the newly gathered evidence, such as the individual damage complaints filed by hundreds of graded officers, a two-hundred and eleven percent increase of added contributes to the Article 930 complaints we have submitted, and the blatant rejection from the public, we believe the President will see reason."

"We lost half of this generation’s newest officers." Jim said, getting a couple distraught looks, "Considering the state Starfleet already is in now, they can't afford withdrawals, and those discharged of an unfair nature and an alarming decreasing rate of enrollment. There's too many officers hanging in limbo over this."

"Diplomatic tension has arisen within the Federation." Spock said, "This program is one that defies the unity it stands upon. They cannot deny that this will impend the success of future Federation treaties.”

Winona emptied out her lungs, "Let alone future Federation species actually considering Starfleet."

Sulu fixed his mope and sighed, "They'll have to start making officers at this rate."

"Twenty-fourth century Starfleet, and all I see are synthetic commanders – " Scott grumbled, shivering at the unnaturalness of it all. "Synthetic scotch too."

"Logic _should_ prevail." McCoy echoed Spock's common viewpoint with a troubled chuckle.

"Or their pride will." Uhura suddenly opined - Scott looking at Jim with the same defeated expression as her. "Are we going to forget that the President is up for re-election? If she veto's a majority vote that’s in favor of the SIM, it'll be political suicide."

"Or she could reach for a compromise. She could simply order all past, current and future grading Admirals to adhere to the complaint demands - and if I remember correctly, that includes them actually receiving their own grades." Sulu said with zero sympathy, anticipation at best.

 

Jim wasn’t surprised when most of them agreed, stating that they would be the first ones there with popcorn at hand.

For him, he felt the opposite. Not excitement but dread.

He listened to Sulu's suggestion and kind of cringed. As much as he wanted the grading Admirals to take the SIM themselves, it wouldn't serve in their favor in the long run. He hoped that the looming possibility of receiving a grade would be enough to steer them to eliminate the toxic thing completely, never to resurface and breathe air again.

 

"Dirty politics." McCoy hissed, rubbing his forehead, tired by the cruelties of this world. "Guess she wouldn't want to lose her fancy office in Paris."

"Perhaps she will choose reason, acknowledging that there is a high possibility of being accused of bias if she utilizes her power to veto." Grayensha spoke out, "This could stain the image of her species, making it nearly impossible for another human to take Presidency again."

"At this point, I'm willing to send her a copy of my Round Four." Uhura added with a naughty grin, obviously proud of her recent achievements.

Scott opened up at the suggestion, "Aye, I second that."

The comment was one met with acceptance within the group, Chekov taking a moment longer to nod and give in. It was a scary thing, that they were willing to expose themselves for the greater good.

Chekov sighed, "She would not sleep days."

"Weeks." Uhura corrected.

"Years." Sulu then said, causing a few more hums of agreement.

"You know what … yeah." McCoy scratched the tip of his nose, darting his eyes away from Jim, "Let's show them exactly why this thing was removed to begin with."

This was coming from the man that had yet to inform his best friend of his own SIM. Whether they were serious or not, Jim didn't particularly like this idea as he should have. He didn't even like it when Uhura took it into her own hands and used her SIM in such a manner.

Shit, even Grayensha looked to be entertaining the idea, leaning back and tilting her head in contemplation.

"Loving the enthusiasm, but let's try to avoid that if possible." Jim raised both hands, urging them to rethink this, "I fear you might regret it."

Thankfully, Spock was with him on this, "It is delicate property, one that should not be played with.”

 

But they weren't listening.

 

"Desperate times call for desperate measures." Sulu announced, defiant and determined to squash everything if need be.

Jim couldn't blame them, not when he could sense the growing desperation within him. Everything was at risk.

Spock cast his gaze down, his jaw clenched - an expression that was becoming too common as of late. Spock's desperation was growing just as strong, if not more.

“If it came to that,” Jim said, making sure to hold Spock’s attention, looking right at Spock when he met his eye, “I would be the first one to let you guys know. Let’s all remain calm, okay?”

Most of them replied ‘okay’, the rest nodding in affirmation.

Spock inhaled deeply, looking back with a knowing gaze, “As you wish.” He said, yet again having no idea how mesmerizing he was.


	78. POST SIM - PART THIRTY

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jim's POV  
> Triple Update!
> 
> Warning: ...?  
> Song: I'll Be Good by Jaymes Young
> 
> ~X

**POST SIM - PART THIRTY **

 

> **_ Commander Linda Fey: _ ** _It was unexpected._
> 
> **_ Celine Varra: _ ** _Unexpected? Everything you've said to me was terrifying._
> 
> **_ Captain Collin Gerald: _ ** _It was a reminder of how things aren't as they appear. We're explorers. We oblige by the prime directive. Sometimes, we are stuck in the middle, and we have to make sure we get out alive._
> 
> **_ Celine Varra: _ ** _You two seem to have gotten along together fine. A pass with compatibility, you said. So tell me, why the controversial split?_
> 
> **_ Commander Fey: _ ** _It took a long time to settle with the reality that space isn't for me anymore. I have done my service and will continue to use my skills to aid the future generation._
> 
> **_ Celine Varra: _ ** _So this has nothing to do with your relationship? This has nothing to do with having seen too much of the other?_
> 
> **_ Captain Gerald: _ ** _Don't be silly. We're human. Of course we saw some things we would have preferred to have never seen._
> 
> **_ Commander Fey: _ ** _He's being vague. There were things I saw that we scarring._
> 
> **_ Celine Varra: _ ** _Like if he slept with stuffed animals?_
> 
> **_ Commander Fey:  _ ** _You have no idea._
> 
> **_ Captain Gerald: _ ** _Please, please don't feed into the gossip, Linda._
> 
> **_ Commander Fey: _ ** _Oh, don't look at me like that, Collin. We can't forget it._
> 
> **_ Celine Varra: _ ** _I bet!_
> 
> **_ Captain Gerald: _ ** _All in all, Commander Fey is a colleague and dear friend. There's no one else I would have entered this life-sucking program with._
> 
> **_ Commander Fey: _ ** _I'm going to miss my crew, the USS Xīwàng and my Captain._
> 
> **_ Celine Varra: _ ** _It's a shame that your SIM stole your love for exploration._
> 
> **_ Commander Fey: _ ** _Starfleet will never be without those that feel compelled by the stars, for new worlds and new life. I am thankful to have done my part._

**.**

**.**

**.**

**NINE HOURS EARLIER**

 

Spock noticed Jim's arrival to the Dhar's working establishment, providing him a brief nod before returning back to his lit PADD, void of his typical soft gaze. Jim slightly wondered as to its absence. Good thing he didn't have to wonder for long.

Jim didn't know what to expect. With the rumors under his belt, he still couldn't believe the sight in front of him. He could hear the sound of torn denim over the awkward atmosphere.

Commander Fey … well, she jumped up from her seat, a scowl on her face. Jim then became certain that Fey and Spock didn't have a pleasant conversation prior to his entrance.

And the scowl wasn't directed towards Jim at all, but to Captain Gerald who was escorted inside with Jim.

Maybe this was a bad idea...

Maybe this was the catalyst that Jim and Spock put towards the fire, and it would explode on their faces – the shards piercing their faces, cutting too deep for possible and complete repair.

 

"What's he doing here?" Fey questioned with a snarl, her words cutting deep and her manicured nails grazing the polished wooden table.

Gerald had to recuperate from the cutting query, his face becoming stone. That action alone could have added more grey strands onto his gelled back hair. He hid his sadness perfectly, it made Jim contemplate if he imagined it before when they were alone together.

But no, he didn't.

Gerald spoke highly of this woman and of their relationship.

It was a fitting sadness.

"I'm doing what needs to be done." Gerald responded, making his way towards the table, sitting five seats away from his former First Officer. Five seats didn't seem anywhere near enough from what Jim could see. They needed to be rooms apart.

This atmosphere could easily suck one's energy.

The young Dhar's smug expression disappeared, rubbing on his chin with unsettled confusion as he stood next to a seated Spock – he seemed so out of place without his father here.

"You said we would discuss strategy – that I could assist in ridding of this stain on Starfleet." Fey snapped at Gregory, Jim internally loving the karma but saddened by her disdain overall. "You specifically stated he wouldn't be here."

"I lied." Gregory replied, resting his chin on his knuckles. "You wanted help. You offered to use your resources. Your Captain is one of them."

"He's not my Captain." She replied, not looking, but probably absorbing power from the fallen features and pain of Gerald on her left.

"Then consider him your strategy." Spock interjected, placing his PADD down and swinging his chair around to face them, now paying attention to the conversation at hand. "To complete our objective, participation on both fronts is obligatory. Alone, and you are ineffective."

Fey glared daggers at Spock, Spock not fazed by the obvious hatred emanating from her.

 

Jim on the other hand, well ... Jim had to tell himself that he didn't need to keep concentrating on Gerald. It was too painful a sight. Gerald's stance and expressionless face was Vulcan-worthy, however being this close meant that Jim could hear his swallows, his hitched breathing, his slow deep inhales.

 

"Our goal is to show that despite compatibility, the SIM can alter one's viewpoint in how they perceive their own life. You are to state and display your lack of faith in Starfleet, regardless of your favorable grade." Spock added, "Despite the blatant disagreements that arose as a result of your program, you two have the utmost respect for the other and endeavor to finally speak of your support in the banning of THE SIMULATION."

In theory, it sounded so perfect. Frankly, Jim wouldn't be surprised if the media was growing tired of him and Spock already – Grayensha's face already causing uproar. The commanding officers of the USS Xīwàng would do the same.

They needed new faces. Fresh faces, and nothing was better than the command team that endured this first.

Gregory Dhar hummed in agreement, "You both passed, and yet you both chose to continue separately. Commander Fey, you are going to remain planetside whereas Captain Gerald here keeps to the ship. Now rumors state that – "

"I first decided to leave." Gerald answered, intertwining his fingers.

"Stupid." Fey slumped back in her seat and turned away, the wall being a better image than the face of her former Captain.

What the fuck was that?

The overall disrespect was disturbing, Jim became skeptical if there was anything to salvage. He looked across the table and met Spock's eyes, who was too distracted by the broken command team in front of him.

"For him to assume that I would stay there is stupid. It's his ship." Fey clarified, turning to Spock with tired eyes, "She's never really ours, is she?"

The query was answered with a few blinks from Spock, inching away as if the question was too close to him, able to hurt him even more if he closed their close proximity.

Jim leaned forward from his seat next to Gerald, "She's his." He opined, shocking Spock out of his stupor, staring back with growing perplexity. Jim winced from the sight. "She's yours." He said again, making absolutely sure that Spock knew that.

Spock should already know that.

Right?

"She's yours too, Linda." Gerald repeated to Fey.

"We share nothing." The response was so quick, so precise – the words were a weapon.

Jim should have mentally prepared for this. This sensitivity wasn't normal for him. He didn't remember feeling like this before – always capable of handling the most awkward of situations.

"Wow." Gregory nodded, sucking in his lips – simply bothered instead of thoroughly perturbed like Jim and Spock were. Gregory didn't understand what this was – what this meant in its entirety. "You guys must have liked each other at some point, SIM pushed aside. Mr. Gerald here vetted over fifteen officers to replace you. Now that says something."

Fifteen? The number was too high, and Spock piqued a brow, turning his eyes to Commander Fey and tilting his head in question. She barely reacted to the news.

Captain Gerald squinted his eyes, his crows' feet deepening - the only sign of his age, certainly feeling exposed, "How did you –"

"Why haven't you chosen someone yet?" Gregory asked away, fixing his silver cuffs on his navy blazer, once again, not caring for his invasiveness nature.

"None of them met the requirements." Gerald responded, the life leaving him from the lie.

 

The lie was a vivid reminder of the days when Jim had to consider another First Officer, wanting desperately to bring the annoying, intriguing, and fascinating Vulcan on board instead. He told Pike again and again, 'Sure, Spock is annoying at times, but we fit.'

He didn't even know what he was saying then, irked by Pike's eye-roll. Him and Spock were only starting to know the other and with the little information he gathered, he concluded that there could be no one else.

Jim couldn't imagine himself in that same position now. Spock's resignation sitting in his terminal, and he didn't have a name in mind - All those interviews and not a single one. He already made up his mind.

Again, there was no one else.

Captain Collin Gerald of the USS Xīwàng found someone who met the requirements. He just didn't find someone worthy enough to replace the space that was Commander Linda Fey, First Officer of the USS Xīwàng.

They already served together too long, now fully infused with the other. Change was a mindset too much to consider. Jim knew this.

 

So Jim enclosed his fingers, his knuckles pale from the possibility still beyond him. He couldn't go through with this, too vulnerable to even be seated in such an environment.

"You found someone." Fey scoffed at him. "You're just too stubborn to deal with things at face value."

Gregory flung his head back in exasperation and strolled away the table. Jim wished he could do that too, but he needed to be supportive to the emotionally abused Captain beside him.

Spock avoided eye-contact, parting his mouth to speak. Too bad Gerald beat him to it, defending himself from the evident dislike Fey radiated.

"Stubborn or not, I work around it." Gerald said, "I always find a way."

Jim saw Spock attempt to speak again except it went in vain, Fey barking right back at Gerald.

She pursed her lips, skeptical and bored of the sentiment, "That silly confidence is what compromised our mission."

Spock then turned to Jim, with a look of someone who needed to catch a break. Knowing Spock, he would have demanded silence, angered by the interruptions. It was the easiest pet peeve to deduce of Spock.

"Do let us know how you feel." The enervated Dhar suggested from the end of the room, feeling the tension that had to be rightfully extracted for any progress to take place.

"You were the one that spoke out of turn." Gerald kept his voice low, but there was a rasp to it – a sound of someone who was keeping everything bottled in, not falling for the bait to lose control. "You were the one that tried to sympathize with the Khusee queen."

Jim could feel Fey's disbelief on such a heightened level, he wondered if he turned completely fully empathic. Fey was absolutely disgusted.

"You were the one that thought it appropriate to waltz in." She retorted, "I had things under control!"

"Control?" Gerald flinched back in disbelief, "You called _that_ control. She was going to kill us all!" He shouted with that raspy undertone, pointing his index finger to the surface of the table. "I had no idea she would require proof."

"This is why we share nothing. You don't listen to me. You don't respect me." She declared as if reading down a list. "Because if you worked with me, instead of against me, then you wouldn't have participated in a massacre!"

Jim heard this from Gerald himself. It was either the Khusoo people in exchange from them to satisfy the Khusee queen, or the away team, too damned for a rescue.

 

To Spock's dismay, he was stuck in this just like Jim. The discomfort somehow turned into something else floating above them - Something Jim didn't know how to classify.

… It was a sense of alarm – of distress … perhaps fear? Then again, that was a big jump, and Jim wasn't confident in his thoughts. He didn't know, and he wanted to ask across the table to clear it up, the question eating at him.

Why in the hell was Spock scared?

 

Gerald stood up from his seat, his aura darkening with defensive agitation, "You were the one that wouldn't stop trying to convince me to go down there and _'check things out'_ – I should have avoided that poisonous planet. I shouldn't have allowed you to come down with us. I should have purged that distress signal. Even the closest habitable one acted like they didn't exist. It was poison on rock!"

Fey reflected his movements, standing up with gritted teeth, her face flustered. "Young ones, Collin! You caved!"

 

In her eyes, Gerald was a coward – a man not worthy of being her Captain any longer.

Her point was clear. She didn't leave the ship.

She left him.

 

"I'm your Captain!" Gerald shouted, the voice an automatic demand for anyone in earshot to comply. This was an Alpha male roaring to his flock, uninterested by Fey's widened eyes as she took a retreating step back, "Your role is to not doubt, merely provide advice, which I should choose to follow or not. That problem was theirs, and my main goal was to get us off that forsaken planet."

 

No.

This was wrong. Gerald understood the gravity of his actions. He was regrettable, from what Jim remembered. For some reason, Gerald was making it out like he didn't care, a man not stuck in a life and death situation. He was currently speaking as if the decision was simple, easy and deserving of little thought.

Except that was incorrect.

Gerald must have abandoned the tactic of defending himself, believing that this was a better method since Fey cared for none of it. If she wouldn't understand, she would at least know that Gerald wouldn't take it back, coming off as evil as she believe him to be.

 

"You keep questioning as to why I passed, Linda." A tense smile appeared on Gerald's face, flashing his teeth for a brief moment, "I passed because I brought my people home. That's the job. That's what Starfleet needs, not someone who can't get over it, crying in fetal position in their sleep."

 

Fetal position they curled, imprisoned in their own room – both not prepared to face the death of their family again – sand between their toes, settling on the wrinkles of their clothes, remnants on their sheets – one awakening from their randomly induced sleep, the other wishing he were numb like he thought he was supposed to be.

 

The specificity of that remark slapped Fey, confounded by it, "Don't you dare – "

"You're weak."

Spock quickly inhaled, scrunching his nose. His eyes darkened, directed towards Gerald and Fey. He was thoroughly disappointed, however that fear remained – and this time, Jim was sure of it.

He just needed to find out why.

Fey nodded twice, accepting Gerald's perception of her, trying to seem as if it didn't hurt, as if an ache wasn't developing within her, "I can't look at you, let alone serve with you."

A bitter laugh escaped from Gerald, "You think that I care if you hate me?"

"I think you don't care about anything." Fey replied, earning a whistle from Gregory who was making his way back to them with a loud exhale soon after.

That was a harsh statement and Gregory was voicing out Jim's inner emotions.

"I think you're soulless." She continued, a huff leaving her pink tinted lips. It wasn't until she said that Gerald was dead inside that her former Captain's forced grin slightly fell.

 

It was building up to something. Jim knew that without a doubt. Someone would take this to the other side, leaving someone stunned, too surprised to answer and questioning everything.

It would either be Fey.

It would either be Gerald.

Knowing Gregory, it could have been him.

 

"Stop. Speaking."

 

Little did Jim know that it would be Spock … but he should have known.

He should have.

 

"I have sat here for seven minutes and listened to your incessant whining and not once have you taken one of those minutes, one minute of our time to consider what is at stake." It was direct. It was a cut sharper than anything Fey and Gerald could have conjured.

A part of Jim wanted to stop Spock before he delved even further down. The worst thing was that it wasn't to protect Spock, but it was also to protect himself, not ready to hear the impending remarks.

Now up from his seat, Spock continued, stalking between the command team with his hands unclasped and out by his sides, "There are cadets out there depending on us, some as young as seventeen Terran years. Those are the children you should be mourning over. The children you should protect."

 

Gregory's eyebrows sprung up, an expression too animated for him, turning to Jim thinking that they could exchange a common thought of confusion with evident interest.

Jim didn't entertain it.

 

"On another day, I may have expressed my condolences of those you have lost, but let us remember that they were not real."

Jim covered his eyes, rubbing them with his fingers, hearing Captain Gerald forcefully gulp. Jim couldn't muster the courage to look at Fey.

Gregory must have been entertained, but Jim didn't know how to feel.

What happened to _'Past life'?_

"They do not affect you or I. Instead of arguing, instead of insulting one another as if you were some mere strangers, as if you have not served for years together, remember that you are comrades." This did not contain the usual passion of the Chief, but of the calculated furtherance of the science officer. "Now, your personal relationship is of little significance to me, however it is vital that you show that this has not torn you apart."

A cold lie.

Gerald twitched when Fey frowned at him. "Clearly it has. Look at her." He pointed to Fey for Spock to look.

"And I could not formulate any measurable amount of care." Spock knew what the hell he was doing, and Jim disapproved greatly, "You seem to be under the belief that your participation is a choice. It is unfortunate, because from what I see, you have none. We are all held hostage."

 

The only reason as to why Gregory didn't speak was because Spock was him in that moment – unscrupulous, careless, only dedicated to the objective at hand.

 

"Commander Fey is in need of drastically improving her image, after her recent _incident_." Spock pointed out, Fey sinking back in her seat at the outright exposure, "Captain Gerald wishes to resurface from his absence and prevent more harm towards the current and next generation of Starfleet." He added, smart to not look at Jim. "Do not be mistaken. Our assembly here is not a representation of a democracy. You are not here to vote, only listen."

Spock was molding them to his image as they shrunk with each word, hypnotizing them to his will on the loudspeaker. "You are no longer individuals. You are a symbol of what must be accomplished, and yet, from what I have witnessed, you do not deserve your uniform." He then leaned closer to Gerald, a predatory undertone clear to anyone who was unfortunate enough to hear, "You do not deserve your ship."

Spock wasn't fine, for he remained stoic from Gerald's discomposure when he would have cared. He should have cared, "If we were not so desperate, I would question if we should include you at all. We should release you of this responsibility and leave you to move on and drown in your woes, and in your work for a mission you are barely anticipating because it consists of a broken crew, and a broken _command team._ " For fuck's sake, Spock wasn't fine. "We should delete this entire evening and allow you to continue to tread the mundane and sink further into your mediocre lives. That may be the fittest future for you."

 

Shame amplified off of every surface, especially over Jim's goose-bumped skin. He needed this shame to just fucking die. He didn't know where it laid, but it shouldn't have been Gerald and Fey's responsibility to carry it all.

They were here to help, not to get callously attacked.

 

"The communication skills I have observed have been nothing but appalling. If you were to continue working together, I would not be surprised if I was notified of your ship's disappearance or destruction."

"Mr. Spock – " What was wrong in this universe for Gregory to want Spock to stop, the words too acidic for even him.

Spock wasn't listening, "Keep in mind that we do not have the luxury of choosing what we can and cannot do. Be the command team your crew deserves. Redirect your anger to those that have crushed you. Sit and listen to our proposal. Listen, because we refuse to have our chances hindered by this pathetic display."

Gerald and Fey looked at the other, silent and yet sharing a conversation meant only for them. They somehow decided to disregard the ego-crushing disrespect and took the message at hand.

Spock was done, sitting down and raising his chin at them, inaudibly daring them to walk out or to say anything that would stop any progress.

Gregory did a tap on the table, showing a stiff smile, "Our first goal is to settle those rumors. From hereon out, you two are the best of friends." He said, zooming onto a list he just displayed between them all. "I have already set up an appearance so that we can deal with this as soon as possible. Expect to undergo media prep, something I'm sure you two are familiar with."

Silence followed, Gerald turning to Jim, his expression contorted. Jim provided a nod stating that although it didn't look it, Gerald could trust them.

"I'll do whatever." Gerald responded, looking to Fey in a way that said _'I'm with it, and you better be too'_

"Fine." She said, getting rid of the slouch in her posture.

"Correct answer." Spock said, "Now let's commence preparations."

 

No one in this room noticed that Spock was terrified, and Jim finally intuited as to why. He didn't dart his scrutinizing eyes away from Spock, confident that Spock could sense his broadcasted emotions – vexed in every sense of the word.

With time, Spock eventually gazed back at Jim, and the tense line of his lips smoothed out, his shoulders pressing under the weight of everything that took place.

And that was the scary part - This wasn't just the general fatigue of the body, but a fatigue of the mind, Spock's resolve breaking.

 

No, Spock wasn't fine.

**.**

**.**

**.**

Spock had the audacity to ask Jim on why he didn't speak throughout the commute to Jim's home. Jim then responded by demanding that Spock take them to Spock's home instead, being much closer because he wanted to scream.

And boy did he scream.

"What the fuck was that!?" He yelled, tossing his jacket on one of the living room couches.

Spock shut his eyes and dropped his keys on the kitchen counter with a resignation that was almost insulting.

"You lost your resolve in there." Jim pointed out after a deep breath, truly not wanting to shout again. There was enough of that between them for centuries.

"It was indeed impetuous of me." Spock simply replied, standing in front of his sleek white kitchen island with crossed arms.

 _Impetuous?_ "You practically shit on their add-ons." He wouldn't let this slide, "How could you? After everything we've been through – "

"A necessary evil." Spock robotically replied, still concrete in his point.

Jim abhorred how he couldn't reach deep into Spock's mind, seeking out the answers he so desperately yearned for, "What's gotten into you?"

Spock's dark eyes landed on Jim, freezing him in place before he could stalk forward, "Everyone is committing to this challenge, and they felt it appropriate to argue in the midst of seeking a solution. Negligence cannot be tolerated."

"We went through the same thing."

Spock's nose scrunched again as if taking in the smell of something rotten. He looked to the ceiling, and it almost seemed like he wanted to prey. "Do not compare – "

"And that's why you reacted." Jim wasn't going to hide what he saw, what he felt and what he heard, "It scared you."

Spock's head turned to him so quickly, it was practically whiplash, "How could you possibly – "

Jim cut him off, lifting a hand with clenched eyelids, "You're scared because that could've been us."

No, Spock wasn't accepting of the exposed fact, "We have overcome – "

"And you didn't give them a chance to!"

Spock couldn't take the perpetual interruptions, taking long strides in Jim's direction. "We are putting everything at risk. I will not excuse my actions. Instead, I will urge you to remember that my _'lack of resolve'_ achieved the desired response." He said, his voice dangerously low.

Spock wasn't allowed to act like he was righteous in this.

Jim tried to not be affected by Spock's closeness and intimidating stance, a position that surely did affect him countless times in the SIM. "Did you forget that you tried to leave?"

Surprisingly, the jibe passed by Spock, "Their sacrifices are nowhere near the magnitude of what you and I had to consider. Their decision should have been reached without hesitation. Instead, we were forced to witness absurd – "

"You were merciless." He huskily whispered over Spock, his sulky dissatisfaction almost tangible.

"And which would you prefer?" Spock narrowed his eyes, cocking his head challengingly, "My mercy, or our failure? The former is an idea that will never transpire under my surveillance."

"Dammit, Spock. I didn't think you'd be so … "

"Our failure equates to the failure of every individual that is endeavoring to eradicate this program. I will be whatever I have to be so that those depending on us do not experience it."

Jim could feel the anger climbing, not surprised that he actually had to physically push Spock away, "I _know_ what's at stake!" And Spock was speaking to him like he had no idea.

 

Like he was clueless in this.

Like he didn't want to cry at night, wishing, praying everything could go back to normal. Normality was so far away, he questioned if he even knew what normal was anymore.

 

"Don't lecture me on what needs to be done when I'm pulling my hair here!"

Spock matched Jim's yell just as much, "Then your searing disappointment in me is ill placed!"

 

Both glared at the other, fuming from their unchecked emotions. Jim immediately turned around to sigh into his shaking palms. He heard Spock's heavy breathing behind him, resolving himself as well.

They did this before.

This wasn't how it was supposed to go at all. Jim took a few steps forward, which increased the space between him and Spock.

They had to think before they spoke.

 

Jim switched tactics to a discuss the most disconcerting part of this, "What I see is someone desperate for control." He then faced Spock, his voice back to normal. "You see your people and how they don't want to turn back on a decision they've made – a decision you backed up."

The intensity in Spock's expression didn't fade, instead sharpening from Jim's observation.

"You see your father and how you want to make him eat his words." Jim continued, almost breathless, "You see Starfleet and still believe it can prosper. Shit, you have more hope than me."

Spock did a shake of his head, still quiet as a sign that he wasn't going deny it.

Jim couldn't ignore the last part, "You see me – "

"Cease this, Jim." Spock seethed, marching behind his island in retreat.

Jim wasn't going to stop. "You see me and how you believe I'll be taken away from you."

Spock rubbed onto his left temple, encircling the area with an audible inhale. If Spock wished to mute Jim out, Jim would throw something to get the attention he rightfully deserved.

 

Spock wasn't going to mute him.

Not today.

Not ever.

 

"Fey and Gerald have no one on their side. And you know what – we were supposed to be on it. I understood where you came from, but you went too far." Jim informed Spock of his errors as he stepped closer, "So before you ever do that again, and to the very people who deserve it the least, I will _cut_ you off before you can even think of breathing another word." It was a promise, and he intended to keep it.

Spock needed to meditate.

There wasn't a need to confirm, for Jim was familiar with Spock's foreignness to this pestering agitation.

"From now on, you shut your eyes and think. You think, and you come to me." Jim ordered, entering the kitchen and making his way back to Spock's bubble, "From this point on, bond or no bond, I'm your anchor."

Spock didn't open his eyes, pressing harder onto his cranium, resting his weight onto the solid furniture. Jim's proclamation caused Spock to grimace tightly, as if wondering how he had fallen so low.

"Use me until I am wasted." Jim replaced his tone with one of sorrow, a sincere plea. He reached out to Spock's covered wrist to put the hand down from Spock's face, "Just give me a chance."

"You cannot aid me in the way that I wish you to." Spock announced, opening his eyes and looking at Jim's hand over the thin fabric.

"Try me."

"It is dark, Jim." Spock lowered his voice, a small crack in Jim's name, "It is barren."

Spock didn't need to explain. Jim nodded in understanding, his frown deepening.

"I am preparing to adapt to it, should it be permanent – " He cringed at that, retracting his hand from Jim's, "In that, I am failing."

"Tell me what to do." He asked, his eyes searching for Spock's, "Whatever it is, I'll do it."

Spock swallowed, moving away from Jim as if he were the wrong magnet, repelled from pure force.

"Stay."

The heat fell to Jim's chest, his breathing becoming heavier. "Spock?"

"I, - " Spock looked to his palms right before letting them fall behind his back, "I require meditation."

 

Red sand and purple flowers.

Was Spock dedicated in crumbling, all to seek temporary satisfaction?

 

"Just remain near me." Spock then clarified, "I may not be able to meditate with you, however I believe it will aid me significantly if I sense your presence. That is my request."

Yes, Jim could do that.

He nodded, Spock's relief washing over his body. It was the best feeling he had all day.

"You're still apologizing." He informed with a growing smile.

Spock sharply exhaled, plodding out of the kitchen and starting to unbutton the silver clasps between his clavicles, loosening his navy metallic shirt. "I will compose something – "

Unacceptable.

"Up and personal, Spock!" Jim outright ordered to Spock's retreating back.


	79. POST SIM - PART THIRTY ONE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been twenty-seven days since my last update.  
> I was thinking of posting a 40K chapter (Spock's POV) next in hopes that it doesn't seem 'slow'.  
> Do let me know if you would prefer it in parts. (I worry that if I update too many times in one day, some readers will skip by accident [which has happened before])  
> Anyways, I'm asking b/c I remember some complaints about the 61K chapter I posted months ago. 
> 
> Song: Haunt by ECHOS  
> Warning: Just writing these passive xenophobic remarks hurt me.  
> I'm hurt y'all.
> 
> *hugs*
> 
> ~X

**POST SIM - PART THIRTY ONE **

**#-##-#-##-#-##-#**

~~**Talk to me** ~~

~~**I'm thinking of you** ~~

**How's the long drive to your father's estate?**

**Feeling any better?**

**\- JTK**

**#-##-#-##-#-##-#**

**There is a heightened sense of clarity.**

**Thank you.**

**\- S**

**#-##-#-##-#-##-#**

~~**Of course.** ~~

~~**I would do anything for you.** ~~

**You're welcome. My assistance is only a call away.**

**\- JTK**

**#-##-#-##-#-##-#**

**I should be unnerved that any chance of reaching clarity is through you.**

**\- S**

**#-##-#-##-#-##-#**

~~**Please don't. This is the clearest I've been too.** ~~

**Give it time.**

**You'll be back to normal.**

**\- JTK**

**#-##-#-##-#-##-#**

**I find myself too selfish to bother seeking alternative methods.**

**\- S**

**#-##-#-##-#-##-#**

~~**I take it back. Don't say those things.** ~~

**Careful.**

**You're bordering on illogical.**

**\- JTK**

**#-##-#-##-#-##-#**

**I prefer to categorize it as my logic.**

**\- S**

**#-##-#-##-#-##-#**

**What are you saying?**

**\- JTK**

**#-##-#-##-#-##-#**

**Perhaps this is contentment.**

**\- S**

**#-##-#-##-#-##-#**

**Yes.**

**Yes, I believe it is.**

**\- S**

**#-##-#-##-#-##-#**

"You look so depressed that I want to ship you off to my home to get you away from all of this." Edmond said instead of a basic greeting. "Spain would do you some good." 

Being off this planet would do him some good.

"The sun's out." Edmond said, "The breeze isn't too cold this time, the weather actually being agreeable today. Come one, drink this. Get off that comm and stop moping."

"I don't mope." Jim replied, deepening his mope simultaneously.

He didn't mean to. It just happened to be his default mood lately. So he straightened his features and accepted the drink from Edmond, which undoubtedly smelled like classic dark coffee.

Both of them sat on the bench, in a park of Edmond's choice, and Jim could get its appeal. For one, there was no one here. Jim wanted to laugh when he saw one jogger in the far corner, too consumed by her exercise than what was around her.

One Ferengi passed behind Jim earlier, talking very loud on its comm as it walked. It was obviously very angry at something other than Jim. All in all, this place was perfect, and the morning breeze was a pleasant sensation to sit through and experience without running between things all the time.

It was calm.

"What's the report?" Jim asked, inhaling the coffee aroma with both hands over the plastic cup.

"Well. I've gathered enough to use, but the main problem is timing." Edmond shifted in his seat to get a better position, huffing as if he went exercising himself. "First, you were presented with the contract fifty-three minutes after your SIM. That's enough for me to squash the thing."

Jim knew this. He wanted more though, and he hoped that Edmond would provide that. "You're going to claim that I was out of right mind."

"With the way you acted in there, I just might." Edmond gave him a side eye like looking down at a child, "Do you really care?"

Damn.

"No." Jim admitted.

"Second - " Edmond continued, "You were never expressively made clear as to who would be reprimanded if you were to not sign. In fact, by your claims, you were put under the belief that Mr. Spock's grade could be a transfer."

Captain's rarely left their ship until retirement, promotion, demotion or death. Questions would arise like how the first rumor of Captain Gerald's transfer did. 

Jim burnt his tongue, and stuck it out to treat it with the wind, "Coercion."

Edmond nodded, "The worst kind. They used their SIM knowledge against you."

Fuckers. All of them. "What else?"

"All their fears of this supposed 'emotional compromise' were brought upon only after your SIM. In this case, since you two have done nothing that should grant such worries, it's all speculative." Edmond rolled his eyes at the idiocy, "If they had a chance with this concept, they would have separated you two during Round Four to test their hypothesis."

Jim's curiosity was scratching at him, begging for attention. "So why didn't they?"

"Normally when I come across something like this, I'd blame it on the operatives."

Jim scoffed immediately, "Like they had a choice?"

He tried really hard to think of the operatives with indifference. The Captain in him reminded him with a screeching scream daily. But the scoff was a sign that he was slowly becoming like the other officers around him. Anger. Anger everywhere.

He wouldn't do that. He had to set an example, no matter how much he was hurt.

Those operatives were hurt as well … on some level. Right?

Edmond took a slow slip of his drink and smiled at the taste. Jim knew a caffeine addict when he saw one.

Edmond raised both white brows and shrugged, "Truth is, if some reach the maximum, they tend to become invested. They're not supposed to, but they do. In your case, they were also short an operative, your team being the smallest."

Four people instead of five. Brilliant.

Edmond continued, "And with you? Well, you have a name, Captain Kirk. You and your crew have endured and succeeded incredible heights. I'm sure they did whatever they could to make it easy for you all."

"Were any of them of my original crew?" Jim asked, knowing that Edmond knew the identities by now - never mind that Jim didn't seek it out himself yet. With the other knowledge the Dhars acquired, this wasn't so far-fetched. The Dhars even confessed that the operatives were under surveillance.

How fucking unethical.

"No." Edmond answered, "They weren't. At most you passed by them, exchanging a brief glance or something."

Maybe one day Jim could sit with them. If confident enough, he could bring Spock with him. Not at first, no. He couldn't imagine Spock in the same room as them.

After what Spock told him, Jim couldn't do this anytime soon. This problem could only be handled once everything else was.

However, it had to be done before the mission. If there was a mission. No exceptions.

Jim cleared his throat. "You said something about timing."

"It's delicate territory. We need to be sure to eliminate any chances of a game-ending response if we bite off more than we can chew. We've angered them enough, don't you think?"

In translation, they had to remove any compromising footage left, if there was. Another reminder that this was a battle without rules. Jim had to suppress a shiver, deciding to sting the walls of his throat again with the hot beverage.

"You also have to remember …" Edmond leaned closer as if to warn him, "Diplomatic ties are struggling. Vulcans especially have made a pact, and Mr. Spock is an active party in it. The contract isn't an issue."

"Spock shouldn't have said those things." Jim wanted to kick something. After the high of seeing Spock return with a bomb, declaring himself an ally and setting stone to his position, Jim realized what could happen.

Spock told him as much soon after. Spock wouldn't even let Jim touch him because of it.

"How do you think he convinced the other Vulcans?" Edmond asked, "Even with Lt. Grayensha's approval, she took her SIM too. The cadets wouldn't have followed them if those two didn't have something to lose as well. And with S'kuul in tow now .. wow. They're doing phenomenal work."

"I don't need you to break it down. I understand the tactic behind it."

"The bond mate in you wants to still hate it." Edmond preened. "How's everything with you two?"

"You don't care." Jim retorted. The question was almost comical.

Edmond's brows furrowed, his wrinkles deepening, "What in the world gave you that impression?"

Jim pursed his lips and waited. Six seconds in and it clicked.

With a heavy sigh, Edmond looked away almost saddened, "My son wouldn't know romantic love if it hit him on the head. I blame it on the lack of a mother's touch. Shame to say, he saw his actions and words as part of the job."

"Gregory's dedication to his objective, our objective, doesn't give him the right to be an ass."

Edmond didn't seemed troubled by the jibe. He was simply enjoying the atmosphere, "Sometimes the fear of failing that objective can make one do anything - say anything - no matter the level of cruelty."

It was a comment that seemed wise, except Jim understood it for the passive attack that it was.

"You're unbelievable."

"I know." Edmond grinned behind his cup.

"It was one instance." Spock wouldn't do that again, at least to the wrong people.

"He chewed Gerald and Fey and spit them out. At least that's what Gregory told me. I swear he sounded proud." Which meant that it was enough to worry Edmond.

The way Gregory pranced around the large room, whistling and looking thoroughly impressed, made Jim want to wipe that smug look away. If he weren't so distracted by Spock's behavior, he might have.

Spock had every capability to be ruthless, yes. Except it was never towards his own allies.

That's who the command team of the USS Xīwàng were. They were Jim and Spock's people. They were Starfleet, and caged in the same position. Gregory couldn't ever grasp how alarming that was because he didn't know Spock. The young Dhar wouldn't have celebrated the uncharacteristic outburst.

"Spock's better." Was all Jim could sadly offer.

"Have you suggested that he meet up with T'chel Viik? She worries about him."

"I haven't yet." Jim answered, "How would she know anything to warrant worry anyways?"

Viik was just someone that the Dhars suggested that Spock talk to.

Nonetheless, Edmond was making it sound like -

"Viik was allowed to view the SIM."

"How in the fu - "

"Admiral Jonathan Archer arranged it." Edmond interjected before Jim could curse to the sky, "Your inquiries weren't ignored, Mr. Kirk."

"Sounds like a bunch of bullshit."

"In fact, she was granted access to meet with Mr. Spock after his POST-SIM interview. She gets it completely."

Not once had Spock spoken of her. Not once, which led Jim to believe that Spock had no intentions of seeing her. To Jim, that decision made no sense. If Viik saw it all, then Spock had nothing to hide.

She actually sounded like a decent person for Spock to confide in on a Vulcan spectrum - a way that Jim couldn't provide. How could he? He couldn't even provide his maximum ability to help, or he would be melding with Spock daily by now. His hands were tied here, and it freakin' sucked.

"If only he could give her a chance - " Edmond sighed heavily, watching one bird in particular, his pupils following its path, "She believes that his avoidance is her fault."

"And what did she do, because if she insulted him in any way, she won't be allowed near Spock's vicinity." Not if Jim could help it.

"No. Nothing of the kind." Edmond shook his head, indicating that Jim's fright was too far-fetched, "She just made him nervous by speaking of something that's rarely spoken between Vulcans. She thinks it was too premature."

Spock could take care of himself. Jim knew this to be true.

And yet, he wanted to protect Spock from anyone, even if that person looked like Spock. Jim didn't care. So far, he could give her a chance, and by Edmond's perspective, she meant well.

It would ultimately be Spock's decision anyways. However, Jim found it complicated to imagine a room of two Vulcans that barely knew each other … speaking of _feelings_.

It was enough to make him cackle.

"Now, onto your health." Edmond blurted out.

"My health is satisfactory."

The chuckle that came from Edmond sounded like a man reaching for a string of life, dying from the choke of hot liquid. Jim quickly shifted to pat the old man's back.

"Satisfactory. Oh, Jesus." Edmond coughed out, holding onto his neck.

"Laugh on, geezer." Yeah, maybe Jim was sounding like Spock at times. "I spent months cooped up in a room with him, and that's not including the Enterprise."

"And there'll be more years of that, I'm sure. Next you'll speak Vulcan."

"Right …" Jim tightened his lips, wanting to show something similar to a smile.

It wasn't the best one though, even if Edmond was dipping into Jim's dreams. But Jim didn't want to hear more, for fear that Edmond would say something to shatter his dream.

"That is what you see in your future, don't you?" Edmond tried to confirm, to see if Jim was still in the game, not giving up early.

"Yeah. There's more to it though."

"Tell me about it." Edmond asked, truly intrigued.

Jim wanted to tell Edmond that he didn't care again, except it seemed like Edmond kind of did. So Jim gave it a shot.

"I see my ship." He said.

"Good."

"I see my crew, the old and new. We're all discovering the temporarily hidden and healing together." Jim swallowed, holding his cup a little bit too tight. "I see me with my bond mate."

"Ah yes, telsu."

It was almost like being punched in the gut. If he knew he could react so strongly to the word, he would have placed a warning prior to this conversation.

Telsu.

In the few hours he had been gifted with Spock's mind fully and without limits, the title telsu rushed through him. It came with every kiss, with every touch and look.

There was a finality to it that made Jim feel like his life was complete.

"With your face, I bet you haven't heard that in this life. I bet there are a ton of things you haven't said or done to each other in this life." Edmond pointed out shamelessly, "I have to ask what the agreement is between you two, seeing as I need to know what I'm working around."

"We're free agents." Jim bitterly laughed, lifting is cup as if he was about to give a toast, "We're not bonded, but I feel something at times, fading in the hours after brief touches. It's exactly what he warned me. Even with that, we're not being as cautious as we should be."

It had to be one decision or the other, but they were dancing in the grey. How pathetic was that?

"Mr. Spock is being noble. He is giving you the freedom to choose how to proceed should Starfleet be stubborn."

"I know." He said a bit too harshly. "It's all redundant at this point. He's not ready to hear the privilege that I consider it to be."

Spock wasn't saving him. Spock was robbing him.

"Funny you say that. You must see some positives in it, such as Mr. Spock could easily find another this time. He's not some mystery or a defect in their eyes anymore. You wouldn't damn him by remaining Captain."

"Defective?" Jim hissed, the word being the most rotten of insults.

"His chances of seeking a mate has increased exponentially. If he were to return to New Vulcan, he could be happy in due time. If anything, if he were to pursue diplomacy, his approval rating would be sky high." Edmond said like a proud father. "There is a life other than Starfleet waiting for him. Can you say the same about yourself, Mr. Kirk?"

Jim acknowledged that the crew and himself played a part in Spock's current image.

Beforehand, people normally spoke of Jim when referring to the Enterprise. This wasn't a fact derived of egotism. It was merely a fact. If Spock was spoken of, it would be in a distant manner.

The First Officer wasn't as approachable.

Not like the kind that meant one could only admire from afar, but that if they stepped closer, they could burn. Spock always received the recognition he deserved, however, he wasn't viewed as a thinking being with emotions.

Spock was a person too.

Considering how that was all changing for the better since they came back to Earth, Jim shouldn't have been surprised with the way things were now.

"I want his happiness." Jim admitted, "Wherever he finds it, it doesn't matter. It wouldn't be with us if the SIM remains. The betrayal's too much."

"You don't sound jealous." Edmond squinted his eyes, scanning Jim for the proper emotions, "Where's the umbrage? You have people willing to get a taste of your bond mate."

"I have to not be absorbed by emotion. I gotta carry on." It was stupid how much he needed Spock to tell him he was still his sun. He would drink it up.

Jim closed his eyes and envisioned his version, his dream and his future. The rest could simply dissolve around him for all he cared.

"You're lying to yourself, Mr. Kirk." Edmond blurted out, "You charged at my son and I, willing to shred everything because of a simple text message. He's yours and you have people thinking they can take him."

Jim shoved the jealously deeper, jumping on top of it as it continued to rise up to swallow him whole.

It was all he was doing lately.

"What can I say here?"

"Say that you despise them." Grayensha's name echoed over Edmond's words, yanking at Jim's dark thoughts, "You're ignoring the truth, and it'll eat you."

"I can't." God, he hated the words plastered on the web. It wasn't cute or funny anymore.

He hated the objectification and sudden swooning over Spock. He hated every person that wrote about him, or looked at Spock in the wrong way.

He never cared in the Warehouse, except the circumstances were nowhere near similar. Jim understood that this was because Spock and him advertised their love, not bothered, but embraced by their peers. They were a unit.

It was a different life.

And now, although they were still a unit, Spock was open for the taking. It was a unit that others thought they had the chance to intercept, fighting them in every direction.

"You're a better man than me." Edmond mused.

"I can't forget their blindness." Jim confessed this much, "It doesn't mean I'll curse them though, because I believe in us. I believe in our union, and I hum to the little beats I'm given. No matter what happens, I take comfort that no one else will hear them but me."

Jim's had to believe that his version would manifest past his consciousness and flood reality, this reality, shining in its famous iridescent luminance.

It was warmth.

Safety.

Authentic light.

**.**

**.**

**.**

 

After the longest meeting in Starfleet Headquarters, Jim also dubbed it the most unproductive one because his mission failed.

McCoy's petition was denied … again.

This was becoming ridiculous. McCoy's petition would be revisited only after the final USS Antigone SIM judgment. Considering how each SIM varied in length and severity, that would be an undetermined amount of time.

He couldn't even visit McCoy, and they were in the same fucking building.

During the middle stages of Jim's healing, McCoy announced his new occupation, no longer just the volunteer caretaker for Jim. Jim remembered his own protests, saying that McCoy already spent too much time here and should return home now that Jim could walk without assistance.

 _'Well who else is gonna make sure you get that PASS'_ the stupid doctor gleefully chuckled. The rest of the week continued with Jim trying to recruit Spock to his side and to persuade McCoy away from all of this.

McCoy didn't listen, and now Jim would remind the fella every chance he got that he wasn't the stubborn one anymore. No. McCoy was officially the more stubborn one.

Desperate to leave HQ, Jim quickened his pace, wanting to get out of these silvers and just die in his room. But this cursed establishment wouldn't even let him have that satisfaction.

His name was being urgently called behind him, forcing Jim to stop. Considering rank, he had to, because it was Admiral Jonathan Archer doing a little jog to catch up to him.

If Jim weren't so fueled by anger, he might have felt sorry for the elder.

It was like he just finished his SIM again.

"Admiral." Jim nodded once, indicating that he had the man's attention. Superficially of course. In actuality, Jim was replaying strings of curses in the voice of the crassest add-on, Katherine.

Oh, she was spitting expletives left and right. Come to think of it, she reminded him of Bones at times.

He made a mental note to ask Spock after his return from Ambassador's Sarek's estate.

"You started power walking there." Admiral Archer said, panting.

"Is there something you want to tell me?" Jim said, peaking a brow, unamused. "Unless it's to tell me of Dr. McCoy's release, then you should know I have duties to attend to."

"You make it sound like he's incarcerated."

Jim couldn't resist, "The similarities _are_ staggering."

"He's an adult, Captain Kirk. Although I sympathize, know that it's not for long. He knows what he agreed to. It's because of his great work and very petition that led us to decide he'll be let go once the USS Xavier docks." Archer continued to explain with a frown, "We're not ignoring him. Times are difficult now - "

Yes, yes and yes. They granted seven other petitions in the last week. Jim's heard this all already. The SIM medical team was dwindling and McCoy's petition was in the bottom.

Archer swiped his forehead, "We have six other officers on the Xavier that will be vetted to join the SIM medical team, then testing with the rest of the crew will begin, without Dr. McCoy."

The work load was getting too complicated to carry.

Chances were that M'Benga was in the same boat.

"Look - " Archer huffed out, placating his arms like he was chained himself, "I'm not the enemy. I've been speaking to the President and will continue to do so until Komack and I leave for Tellar Prime."

Oh, so those were the two replacing Admiral Shorkirc and Admiral Alvas.

At least Komack would be light years away.

Jim merely blinked at Archer, and it looked to be infuriating the elder. Did Archer wish to receive a medal for his efforts?

"I didn't want this. I tried - "

"Not enough." Jim said without warning. His filter was unleashed. "You've all got anarchy on your hands. It may be silent now, but it'll get to levels you can't control. I wouldn't even be able to save you then."

"I see that."

"Then _tell_ her." Jim urged, when he wanted to say that Archer should just give her some popcorn to watch the shit shatter before her eyes.

"It's complicated." Archer's shoulders drooped, defeated and tired. "The President's swarmed by all sides here. The FAILs we've recently gathered aren't helping us much either. She's currently deliberating a deal to satisfy only the telepathic and empathic officers, but a total removal is becoming more unlikely."

Jim was so close to spouting nonsensical words of how much he abhorred how the system was failing him. He was so close, but he knew better. Instead, he kept his eyes on the Admiral, unfaltering in his glare.

Archer winced under it, looking like a man that wanted to grab retirement like a jewel. Archer probably wanted to marry it, sleep with it and tell it stories. He looked like a man that evaporated all his time in Starfleet, having nothing else to give.

The contest of stares ended when Archer's name was called. Shit, Komack was coming. All of them were catching attention, prying eyes in their direction.

The people around them on the bottom floor stopped in their steps to look at them.

Jim wanted to leave, because his control wouldn't be so exemplary around Komack.

"We're receiving another comm from Tellar, Jon. It's best we return, right?" Komack said in the middle of their discussion, like he hadn't learned basic manners in kindergarten.

"I was just leaving." Jim said, ripping his eyes way from Archer and directing them towards Komack. He couldn't help the forming snarl.

"I actually want words with you." Komack suddenly said. "In private."

Jim cringed.

Archer cast Jim a worrying glance, showing that he would stay if need be.

Jim didn't need it, so he did a subtle nod.

Archer turned in his spot and tilted his head towards Komack, "Mind your manners, James."

"Of course." Komack replied as if he heard this before, "I'll be there soon."

Obviously that was a lie, because the moment Archer was out of sight, Komack smiled.

He smiled, showing teeth, like Jim wasn't a threat to him. Komack too smiled so that its heinous meaning was conveyed to whoever caught it.

"Well, Mr. Golden boy, you've seemed to have caused quite the spectacle."

"Didn't take much effort, really." Jim responded, calm and steady. "Wonder why?"

"Call me thick headed, but I wonder why you want to stop all efforts to clean things up." Komack said, nudging his head up, "You suffered first hand by what Starfleet had to endure. Some might say you know what _dying_ feels like."

… Komack wasn't speaking of Jim's SIM death. No, because if Komack or anyone higher-up actually considered that a real death, then these SIMs wouldn't be an issue. No.

Jim had to prevent his swallow. He had to look unaffected and still.

"But with all that aside, I can't blame you." Komack feigned sincerity, "You're emotionally motivated after all. I almost want to say that maybe your wiring is still manipulated with his, but we both know I can't actually say that."

That wouldn't get to him.

It wouldn't.

A small laugh emitted from Komack then, "But I can say that I'm still surprised. Now, I'm not one to care for an officer's sexual liaisons, because we all know the game, and I'm all for fun and games. Yet, somehow you never received the memo of the extent of it."

Holy shit.

This was where the conversation was actually diving. It was plummeting. Jim then felt sick by classifying this as a conversation.

This was an attack in a fiery ocean, the ripples bubbling, boiled and dissolved of any life that touched it.

Jim could easily replace Komack's clothing with Salvatus wool, and it would be more fitting than Admiral silvers, because - what the fuck?

The gears in his brain creaked, the little workers inside screaming for more coal.

"In this day and age, the sanctity of marriage is rarely considered an option. I get that. Some even preach that monogamy within the human race is unnatural." Komack spewed his reprobate rhetoric like he was a king of some kind, unfazed by Jim's widened eyes, "But when it is, it's taken very seriously. How disconcerting it was to see you choose something so far off your palate."

"My _palate_?" Jim managed to say, surprised his throat wasn't completely dry.

He never hated his position more than he did in that moment.

The Lightrunner would have swung, and then looked at his victim, daring them to try to steal what was his again, daring them to get up and ruin his few hours of daylight.

 _'Sympathizer,'_ they screamed.

The Lightrunner would have killed.

"Don't act like they don't think of you the same. Lord knows what your so-called bond mate is hearing on his end." Komack gave Jim a quick once over, tsking with compose, but still displaying his unease of it all, "We're only human after all, and you were nothing but an error, a one way ticket back to telepathy. Perhaps when you realize that this thing you're fighting for is not actually worth fighting, you'll then reach clarity."

It was like Jim's skin was peeled, exposed. All those against him had ammunition, ready to attack Jim with their gained knowledge, and with the insecurities that should have only belonged to him.

They had so much, and Jim ached to terminate it, because he saw Komack … and it was a man more than capable of doing what the Dhars said he should be wary of, because with Jim's worst moments, they also had his best.

Komack would burn for this.

"There's no need to worry about me. If anything, your concern is ill placed." Jim began with a smile of his own. To a far away spectator, this looked like a pleasant exchange.

It was anything but.

"Things haven't been clearer." Jim said, "I'm actually enjoying this clarity. For one, I see all of this atrocity ending before the Xavier docks. Might sound pretentious, but hey, it's the Golden Boy in me."

Komack did a quick look around, then squinted at Jim as if warning to not reach insubordination. Jim was too far from caring now.

"Don't look so disappointed." Jim said, giving two pats to Komack's left shoulder, causing the older man to flinch at the contact, "I'm sure that after all this work, you could use a vacation. Seems like a splendid idea. With meadows and a cabin maybe? A cuban smoke too, if you're into that sort of thing."

Jim then stepped closer to the man, replacing his false smile with a darkened expression, satisfied by Komack's furrowed brows and troubled stance.

"But here's the best part," he continued, "When you do start that vacation, do us all a favor and make it indefinite. Because here's what I also see - I see a man who is out of touch with the times."

Komack twitched under Jim's glare, stepping back to give space between them. It probably bothered Komack that he wasn't the only one feeding off of this tension, no longer solely owning the space. Komack's lips formed into a tense line, disturbed, and that was right where Jim wanted him.

Jim chuckled, waving one hand like he told the best joke in a bar, "Oh, don't act like there aren't others that think of you the same. I'm sure your prolonged place here is nothing but an error. It's no wonder you don't have a grade of your own."

Komack gritted his teeth at that, "This is coming from the Captain that rides his way through luck."

"Don't embarrass us both, sir." Jim heavily sighed and straightened his shirt, easing back from the toxic atmosphere. "Now, forgive me. I have extended my time here long enough. Turns out that saving the Starfleet you've all abandoned is a lot of work."

He didn't wait to be dismissed.

He didn't wait for Komack's fallen expression.

Jim didn't bother with it, making his way to the front doors and out of this place without looking back. Truthfully, he didn't think he belonged here anymore.

 


	80. POST SIM - PART THIRTY ONE (2)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAPPY 80th CHAPTER!!
> 
> And here I go - separating the next chapter into parts.  
> Here is the first part into Spock's POV galore. 
> 
> Song: Thousand Eyes by Of Mice and Men  
> Warning: N/A
> 
> ~X

**POST SIM - PART THIRTY ONE (2) **

.

.

.

Spock was properly dressed after his morning cleansing. Water was used again, and it made him question when he would cease to use it so frequently. How generations of conditioning were removed by a simple SIM reminded him exactly of what he was dealing with.

Either way, Spock could afford to place the troubling thought away because today was a day to celebrate.

He noticed that there was a certain fluidity in his walk as he prepared to debark for his father's estate. Granted, pristine posture was always an important element for him, except in his recent days, he was putting great effort into it when it normally would have been effortless.

POST-SIM, his meditations have been superficial at best.

So Spock's suggestion was simple. Jim merely had to speak.

The topic could have been anything. Literally.

And the result was better than any attempts of meditation he had commenced on his own.

 

_ "Sometimes I wonder if it would be too invasive to ask Chekov on why he shaved his hair.  _

_ Is it a permanent look for him, or is he simply trying something new? Then again, it's obviously SIM related.  _

_I hate this." _

 

It was not a permanent solution for Spock.

However, it was a solution nonetheless, and he was immensely satisfied from the progress Jim's presence easily unlocked. When he began, his mind instantly relaxed beyond what he could achieve on his rolled out carpet. His limbs were set in its fixed positions, not feeling the strain of it for once.

Jim's voice was melodious, Spock's energy sucking it up like resplendent fuel. He was not in the slightest bit bothered by Jim's pacing around the home as he spoke, settling down on different pieces of furniture, one time taking to lying on Spock's kitchen island. Spock did not need to open his eyes to see Jim lay flatly on the metal, body plastered wide.

 

_ "They say you gotta face the fear to be rid of it, A part of me wants to become absorbed by lights, music vibrating through the walls, surrounded by people with tune filled minds.  _

_ Not ashes.  _

_Where there's music, there can be no evil." _

 

Spock missed the little snickers from Jim's own rambling. It was the sound of the past, a man that was unaffected by any wrongdoings.

 

_ "Or a comedy show. That would be splendid.  _

_Did you know that laughter distances us from that which is ugly and therefore potentially distressing, and indeed enables us to obtain paradoxical pleasure and therapeutic benefit from it." _

 

At that point, Spock recognized that Jim was speaking in quotes from a tale. It was that same tale, and Spock was beginning to question if Jim loved it more than him.

Spock breathed in on his mat, and made it his endeavor to avoid any internal expression of the sentiment. He melted under it and Jim was too near.

 

_ "I'm going to say this now, and you can talk to me later about it since you can't talk – but I received something troubling.  _

_ Another resignation. … I shouldn't have been shocked, but I was.  _

_ Not once have we thought about her. Can you believe that?  _

_I can't imagine her position." _

 

In this new day, Spock decided that before he leave to spend the day with his father, there was one other task to complete.

The number he wished to dial was a complicated one to find, seeing as the person he intended to call deleted almost all traces of herself on the web, including her academic pages.

She did not wish to be found, and Spock would not be surprised if she decided to ignore him.

Right now, no one was aware of his actions or intentions, including Jim. Only after could he inform Jim of his discoveries, however it was imperative that he made sure. He needed to see it for himself.

 

Suddenly, the video comm connected.

 

A woman appeared before him, her short blonde slanted cut now a shoulder length wavy mane. Spock was not aware that one could lose the brightness in their blue eyes unless there was another variable such as an illness.

Then again, no matter Jim's mental or physical challenges, his blue eyes shined.

The physical change of the blue irises before Spock were too staggering, that he had to remind himself to not appear affected. They were like shattered glass, stomped on with dirty shoes, void of all its original properties.

Jim's words brought him here, reminding Spock of their inconsideration.

 

_ "I had my dad's success looming over my head my whole life. Knowing that, I couldn't live a life if he had extreme failures instead.  _

_If his villainy floating above me, never allowed to forget or live – I think I would've cracked, Spock." _

 

Carol Marcus' eyes widened when she saw Spock, her smaller body tensing up, _"And here I thought my computer malfunctioned when it spoke your name."_

Spock demanded an explanation immediately, "Explain."

She stammered, her dry lips parting several times. Spock grew confused. Did she assume he would commence small talk?

She blinked again, _"I'm sorry? What do I have to explain?"_

"You were assigned to the USS Enterprise. You accepted. You underwent proper preparations." Spock reminded her, "Explain."

_"It's pretty obvious."_

"If it were so obvious, this call would not be taking place." Yes, people were halting their SIMs, not showing for their appointments.

However, Carol wished to retire from Starfleet as a whole. The majority of those holding full resignations over Starfleet were the non-human Federation species.

 _"Captain James Kirk is well informed."_   She replied in a monotonous manner.

"Everything you have provided him is of a simple structure, each sentence of a robotic, empty reason. There was not one word of sincerity." The hypocrisy did not escape Spock, having done the same not long ago.

But Carol could not attack him on it. Instead, Carol looked away, sucking in her lips to provide much needed moisture to them, _"I have done everything required of me."_

"You owe it to him to explain."

A wicked smile then presented on her face, _"With all due respect, I doubt he cares."  
_

"You are mistaken, Dr. Marcus."

 _"Dr. Wallace,"_   she sternly corrected, _"Don't look so shocked, Mr. Spock. I'm not playing some game. That's my name now."_ She added, tilting her head in question. _"I'm surprised you're calling me. I have to ask, why do you care?"_

"My feelings towards you are irrelevant."

Carol burst into guffaws.

 _"I'm not dense. I saw the way you looked at me before everything went tits up."_ She then scoffed with narrowed eyes, _"You don't even like me. No one likes me. And you know what, I was fine with that for a time. I even fell for Captain Kirk's candor."_ She tucked a few messy strands behind her ear, _"I was just the daughter of this man who caused complete destruction in Starfleet's fragile state. I could name each casualty and all those they were related to. But now … literally all of Starfleet is feeling this personal pain and their faces towards me are worse than I ever could have imagined."_

Carol looked torn. She was clearly punishing herself.

"You are carrying guilt that is not yours to carry." Spock pointed out.

 _"Your telepathy was stripped from you."_ She spit out as if it was the explanation to everything. _"You must hate me."_

"Your father was a catalyst to a bigger form of corruption," Spock found that he could not say the ex-Admiral's name, "Escaping civilization, remaining isolated, all of it will erase your name, further instilling it in relation to him. You have an opportunity to exhibit your true characteristics, not trapped by your blood."

 

If she remained, those faces towards her could change.

Spock genuinely believed that.

Her mission was different than theirs.

 

Carol swallowed, rubbing her bare upper arms for comfort. It was probably the only form of comfort she had received in the last year.

_"Why are you doing this?"_

"Because you are a valued officer who wishes to not only rectify her father's wrongdoings, but to be better because in essence, you are not only better but also good, Dr. Wallace." Spock spoke out, "You obtain tenacity, exemplary skills and bravery. You have endured just as much, if not worse. You belong."

 _"I've made my decision …"_ She hesitated to say, blowing out a gust of air. She looked to be in disbelief of Spock's comments, _"I see what's going on. If they keep the program, I don't belong. You said you wouldn't belong either. We're better away from all of this, you and I."_

 

She was placing herself in the same category - the battered few.

The ignored and taken for granted.

The disrespected. The abandoned.

 

"Our Captain once stated that he was glad you could become a part of the family." Spock reminded her of Jim's words, causing Carol to wince from the memory. "How did you respond?"

For a brief moment, Spock assumed she would not speak. He waited for her to say something.

As expected, she conceded, and Spock did not bat an eye.

_"I said … I said, it's nice to have one."_

Humans were social creatures. She could not live like this until the end of her days.

"My people are relaying a critical message, Dr. Wallace. You, on the other hand, should not be robbed of the opportunity to repair your image and continue life happily. Whether I am with you or not, I urge you to rethink your decision." Spock said, the call ending soon after.

**.**

**.**

**.**

 

So far, Sarek had apprised Spock of the diplomatic tensions within Starfleet, which was a settling fact. It was growing into something larger than before – showing the potential to become something alarming and impossible to ignore any further.

Spock could say that it made him hopeful.

 

"You appear to be improving." Sarek spoke out after fifteen minutes of calming silence.

"You agreed to solely speak of diplomatic developments regarding the permanent removal of THE SIMULATION." Spock pointed out, not wishing to speak of his internal struggles. That was not the reason behind his visit.

"I have said all I have to say considering the matter at this time." Sarek said in the middle of their long stroll on his Terran property, both their bare feet sliding on the almost too green grass, "Am I not allowed to know of any developments towards your well-being?"

There was no escaping this, "I have succeeded in meditation."

Sarek had a pause to his step, clearing his throat - "I take this to mean that you are not in need of assistance."

Spock could not lie, so he said what he could. "Not from you."

Perhaps it was too blunt, too grim of a statement. However, Spock did not feel any desire to rectify it.

"You have already explained the contents within your SIM." Sarek said.

 

It was a question within a statement. This was Sarek implying that Spock had nothing to fear by melding with his father, something they have not endeavored to do since eleven days prior to turning seventeen Terran years. The responsibility was passed to his mother – someone who did not have the ability to access anything Spock did not willingly transfer. It was an aid that obtained the leeway to offer Spock freedom.

The ambush by M'Benga reminded Spock of his life-long tactics – and that he would be unable to successfully conceal everything forever. The SIM rid him of that ability, and Sarek would discover it all if they were to meld together.

There was also a possibility that if Sarek knew the rawness of Spock's pain within the SIM in detail, Sarek would blame himself. Illogical, of course.

But Spock could not risk it.

He could not toss Sarek in the dangerous heat.

 

Not when his father was without telsu.

_Again._

 

"There are aspects I wish to keep to myself." Spock admitted - the sentiment remaining true since the day he discovered his body obtained another human element – a messy, unpredictable and improper element.

"Even at the risk of losing equilibrium?" Sarek questioned, his concern swarming Spock. His metallic robe now removed for maximum comfort, Sarek strolled in his prussian blue tunic and standard black pants. There was a tense line to his thin lips.

"I have discovered an effective method." Spock informed his father.

Sarek did not appear convinced, his hands separating from behind his back as they walked under the Sol Sun, "And is it one you foresee yourself using indefinitely?"

If Spock were going to remain with Jim, then the answer would be an obvious one. "In the proper conditions, perhaps."

"Therefore, negative." Sarek responded, unimpressed.

"It is my own trepidation to overcome."

"I will not question what you are hiding, however I will question as to why you have not sought out Lady T'Chel Viik's aid. By your logic, she could assist you significantly."

Spock was taken aback, "The councilor?"

 

The buzzing in the POST-SIM interview room ceased, Viik taking a seat in front of him and speaking of things she could never comprehend, uttering dead titles of what Spock had - Then the disappointment exuding from her pores from Spock's righteous decision and display.

It was not her place to speak of such things, let alone see what lurked in Spock's layers on consciousness.

Let alone tell him what to do.

 

"She is a valued ally in Vulcan – Earth relations." Sarek said, "Of course we are in contact."

The alarm within Spock grew louder, pounding and pounding, "And what have you both discussed."

"You." Sarek immediately answered.

"Elaborate." Please, Spock wanted to urge. He needed to know because if he were going to speak to his father of certain parts of him, he would prefer to do it himself, under his terms and controlled conditions.

"How has the night treated you?" Sarek inquired instead, oblivious to Spock's increased cynicism. "I admit that gazing into a sky long memorized can be difficult because of its recent alteration, our loss a visible reminder."

A missing star.

"Father – "

"However, I cannot imagine what you see in the stars now? Does the absence of this enemy you have adapted to seem to arise suspicion, lack of fixity? Is it still a silent threat of its unpredictable return - "

"It will pass." Spock blurted out, uncomfortable from the accurate assumption. "Do not ignore my inquiry, father."

 

Sarek stopped his pace – looking directly at Spock with intrigue, "She only expressed her concern for you."

It was vague and definitely not a lie, but it was still evasive. "And she has expressed her wish to speak with me again?"

"Indeed." Sarek answered with a nod.

"What if I were to deny her assistance?"

"I can only do so much." Sarek closed his eyes and breathed in, "You and I may have reached an impasse more than I would like, however please know that you can ask for assistance at any time. I would never deny you."

"Your efforts are appreciated – " Spock said, cutting off a stutter in his voice.

"Intend to make use of it, instead of mere appreciation." Sarek responded with a snipped tone, "That is what your mother would say to me when I pushed aside her concerns with that very sentiment, - one that you seemed to have learned from me, my son."

"I remember it all." Spock said, feeling a rising heaviness on his chest – wishing for the impossible. "Tell me, how are you faring with the memories?"

"I cannot express it. They are relentless, Spock." Sarek admitted with a sharpness to his features as he looked ahead, "And yet, I would prefer it no other way. There is solace in this pain."

 

It was a more thorough answer than Spock expected.

 

"Most have sought out Kolinahr." Spock uttered the common fact, an impending conversation between the two since the day of his mother's death.

Sarek apparently grimaced at the idea, shaking his head, "It is a ritual I will never endeavor to complete. I have not done so before. I will not consider it now."

"I am perplexed by your decision." Especially since Sarek supported Spock's idea of Kolinahr prior to entering Starfleet.

"Then let me explain." Sarek said, inviting in Spock's energy, "Your mother had gifted me with every part of her, and I have done so in return. It was a convoluted exchange, many aspects of our culture met with shock and fear. I admit, in our earlier days of courtship, her apprehension by being in the midst of our people made me wary to continue."

"But you have."

"By her persistence, I continued." Sarek said, "She was exposed to much more per her wish. The responsibility of educating her on pon farr was by far something I would never repeat, but most necessary."

Wariness arose in every fiber of Spock, the neglect of his own responsibilities blinking in his face.

Spock wanted to crumble at the reminder.

"I informed her of all the complications that could arise in our union and in the end, she accepted me." Sarek added, "How could I wish to be numb to those memories? The very prospect would make me handicap."

"I know mother would have held great disdain for the idea, except she would have had greater disdain for your pain." Spock reminded him, "She would accept the ideals of Kolinahr, father."

His mother already did so when Spock informed her of his intended path.

One he did not proceed with.

 

"I prepared for this from the moment I bonded with a human, believing that I would outlive her throughout it all. Little did I know that she would be taken from me this early." Sarek said with a disagreeing tone, "Spock, memory is what keeps the katra alive. Memory is what allows us to heal. It has to be cared for, not carelessly broken down into simple images and thrown into the abyss of our minds. If treated as less than a treasure, it would be an insult."

 

In the end, in order to honor Amanda Grayson, Sarek chose to grieve like that of a human.

**.**

**.**

**.**

 

The day reached its end - Spock on his bed in his robe, keeping his eyes closed. He listened to Jim's laughter on the comm, arguing with his mother on the main message of a recent movie she forced them to watch together. Movie marathons were a pastime Spock wished to resume with Jim too.

 

Spock's comm on speaker, he somehow forgot to inform Jim that he completed his meditation six minute ago. He found that he did not want for the voice to leave him, feeling as though Jim was still near him.

 

_"I'm sorry about that, Spock. You don't need to worry since she's getting ready to leave – No. Ma! Don't forget the milk! Almond milk only – I mean it!"_

There was smile in the privacy of Spock's own room, the hiss of one of Jim's doors closing and the faint rumbling sound of a hovercraft starting.

 _"I bet you heard that – that's my rental ready to crash into the nearest store. I don't think she remembers how they work."_ A heavy sigh escaped the comm. _"If only you knew the ancient shit we drove back at home."_

Spock turned to the side, not bothering to pick up the fallen silk of his robe, his shoulders bare as he inched closer to the device, as if it were Jim himself.

_"She's taking advantage of me, and I have to agree or she could set off another world war."_

"A hyperbolic assumption – " Spock suddenly said.

 _"Wait – "_ There was a loud shuffle then a slam of button, a door sliding shut. _"You're done?"_

"Affirmative."

 _"Then tell me, will you talk to Viik?"_ Jim asked, wasting no time. He already asked this of Spock prior to beginning meditation.

"I have not changed my mind in the last four hours and ten minutes, Jim."

_"I want the best for you."_

Spock prevented himself from groaning at the repetitive request, "Lady Viik appears to have ample connections."

_"Considering what your dad said to you today, she's very persistent."_

"Alarming." Spock corrected.

Jim laughed at that, _"Promising."_

"Disturbing."

_"Dedicated."_

Not in Spock's book. "Nettlesome"

Jim tsked, _"Percipient"_

"How so?"

 _"Well, she knew that direct contact would have been ignored, and this method is one you can't be rid of. Me, for example."_ Jim explained, _"You can't be rid of me, Spock."_

"Nor my father, it seems." Spock exhaled, returning to his back to stare at the ceiling, his hair attracted to the sheets by static glue.

_"You're catching on. Good."  
_

Spock could practically hear Jim smile, that if he switched their call to enable video, he would see it.

"I will consider it."

_"You know I want more."_

The urge to say 'as do I' was on the tip of Spock's tongue, but by mere sense, he refrained, swallowing in response.

With a clearer mind, he grew thankful that he was not in a desperate state for clarity. But this did not take away the known fact that even with this clarity, a link with Jim was all that he knew to be correct in this life. Any life.

 _"Spock?"_ Jim asked for him, worry in his tone.

"I am here."

_"Thought I lost you there."_

Spock was not so sure of how to answer that.

 _"I guess you want some sleep now."_ There was a small chuckle of nervousness. " _I'll see you tomorrow."_

"If you do not mind – " Spock found himself saying, "I would like for you to remain on the line."

_"... Are we going for some record?"_

"I would not know, for I am not knowledgeable of such a record."

 _"We could find one."_ Jim offered with a teasing slur. _"Or set our own."_

"That is your prerogative, Jim." Spock said, too lazy to put the sheets over him, staying still as he heard Jim's breaths next to him.

 

It was a subtle sound that released the knots in his muscles, and eliminated any echoing painful sensation deriving from his untouched thigh. If he placed his finger over the untarnished skin, sliding the fabric away, he still felt confident that he would feel scar tissue.

But there was none to be felt.

Similar to Jim's waist.

In memory of that, Spock yearned to see it for himself again. He had to be sure.

So Spock rested his hand on his wound-less thigh, reminding himself that this was also the case for Jim.

 

_"Should I come over?"_

"That is not needed." Spock said a little too fast.

A light scoff came from Jim, _"I promise to be good this time."_

"You were not the one to have erred tremendously." Spock said, remembering the rises of Jim's chest, too close to him on the couch.

 

Spock offered dinner. They were working, and enjoying each other's company. He should have been cautious of what could take place. He said it himself before, stating that this is what would likely take place on the Enterprise. This was a simple test, and he failed.

They failed.

The way Jim licked his thumb, patting those fingers on Spock's hair – Spock could not blame Jim for it. It was an action he had seen multiple times among other humans. It was a common gesture, not one to be taken in any obscene light.

And yet, as it happened, it brought upon thoughts that they would have had no chance of disruption if he anchored his hands on Jim's waist, bringing Jim rightfully on his lap. Clearly, the setting was not a wise one.

 

 

Jim's breaths were heavy. _"Say you miss me."_

Spock responded, a truer sentiment than any. "I miss you."

_"Then let me come over."_

"I …" Spock clenched his eyes, taking a few strands into his fist. A deeper heat traveled all throughout his body despite his indecent, exposed appearance. He was coated with heat.

 _"Dammit, Spock."_ Jim groaned at the lack of Spock's response, _"I keep saying to myself that these goosebumps don't mean a thing. How could they since you never held me here? You never kissed me in any way, the closest one being through a fucking glass."_

Spock knew he was in the wrong for not responding sooner, and for not ending this call.

He was too selfish.

 

Something in Jim was unleashed, growing bolder with each second. Spock shivered, hearing the desperation in Jim's voice.

He had to cease this, "This is not – "

 _"Do you know what happens when I stop telling myself that for even a moment, Spock?"_ Jim rhetorically ask, a sharp exhale leaving his lips after, _"I stop for a moment, and I feel it all again. The way you –"_

Spock croaked at the vivid images threatening to surface, "Stop."

 _"Why?"_ Jim dared to ask, not in a sense that feigned obliviousness, but in way that would force Spock to explain why something so pleasant was so ill advised.

Spock did not wish to air out the reasons, believing the explanation to sound ridiculous. He could not afford a reaction now.

"I share your struggles." Spock offered, "In this, you are not alone, I assure you. But – "

 _"Do you think about it?"_ Jim interjected, his sternest gone, replaced with something softer, more approachable.

If Spock lied, Jim would end the call without warning.

"Frequently."

_"You don't have to keep it to yourself … I want to know – "_

 

It was a clear proposal for Spock to speak.

Speak.

Actually speak of this.

 

"You wish for my words?" He whispered the familiar query between them.

Jim did not say 'yes', but he did affirm with a broken moan. It was exactly what Spock could have done without, because he could feel the heaviness between his legs, and it was only getting started.

"I am finding myself in a growing state of arousal," He confessed, swallowing when Jim husked out a curse in response.

 _"That's more invitation than anything, Spock."_ Jim said, provoking and pecking at Spock's troubles.

"It is not." Spock responded, "In the time that it takes for you to arrive, the arousal would have most certainly dissipated."

 _"Liar."_ Jim breathed out, _"Doesn't matter how much time in between, as long as I make it – "_

 

Jim was correct. Spock shook at the thought of how Jim had the ability to make him want, even before the SIM. 

Then as if a joke by the Universe, Spock also discovered that a surge of want could sometimes arise by one word, as if programmed to respond. Triggered.

It was the most fascinating thing to explore, and yet troubling as well.

'Stay' was the first word. It was innocent. It was genuine. It obtained a deeper meaning, and with time, it morphed into something more promising. Almost dipping into fantasy.

The next one was discovered in the middle of a football field. 'Chief.'

Instead of hopeful, it almost rendered him primal and aching. The result shocked even himself.

How … uncanny.

 

"I cannot argue your logic."

 _"How about this then – "_ Jim began to suggest, _"Just imagine me there … like how I'm imagining you here."_

It was something Spock had done before. Except, this was different. Too different.

_"Because you see – I'm not stopping myself from thinking about it now. I'm letting it flood over me, sitting on my bed and fuck, it feels – "_

Spock knew he was positively flushed all over, feeling the heat of his home brush over his skin. He imagined it as Jim's hands, skimming his skin, all ending with a hard grip. Spock quivered at the thought.

It felt, "Sublime."

 _"Wondrous."_ Jim replied with a grateful laugh, _"God, it's not fair – "_

"Indeed."

Jim then cleared his throat, _"You don't get it."_

"And have I not already informed you that you can speak to me without the inclination to always fit logic?"

_"I know, but – "_

"Then try, Jim."

 

Time stopped, and Spock was honing into the heavy breaths that ensued after his insistence for Jim to speak – to confide in him. He wished to eradicate the troubling matter that seemed to have manifested itself into this conversation.

He could not call to Jim again, only waiting. He did not wish for Jim to feel the need to retreat and form some excuse to end the call.

Another curse and exhale – Spock was certain Jim was ready.

 

 _"Over there it was different – "_ Jim muttered something unintelligible after, farther from the comm. _"Over there,"_ He then said, a reassurance to himself and not Spock. " _You weren't careful."_

The admission was aired out as if it was a lost aspect that deserved mourning. Spock shut his eyes and mourned it too. He mourned the freedom of being himself, fully, knowingly, and with the person he loved.

"I still believe in - "

 _"Were you going to say hope?"_ Jim immediately questioned, _"I look at you at times, and I'm sorry, but when you think no one can see you, your entire demeanor is void of that hope."_

 

The freedom that Spock throbbed for ran further and further away. Sometimes Spock would look at it in the distance and internally call for it to return. That was what Jim saw when Spock spoke so crassly to the commanding team of the USS Xīwàng.

It was for that precise reason that Jim stepped his foot down, and declared himself as Spock's anchor. It was not just for meditation, but it was also a demand that Spock speak to Jim. Speak of the distance.

Spock returned to fight for this. To be that ally. To be that soldier.

However, he had revealed himself weak too many times.

 

 _"I just want to run over and reestablish that hope by telling you that your worst case scenario isn't the right one."_ Jim oddly said, _"I want to tell you my version, and in my version, we still have that freedom. … But something tells me you're not willing to accept it yet."_

Jim was dangling the very thing Spock coveted for, and Spock found himself wanting to end the call so that he was not forced to fall into it.

From their brief touches; there was enough evidence to feel his bridge rumbling, demanding attention. It was a precursor quake, and he knew exactly what would make it shake in cataclysmic volume.

Cataclysmic volume …

Spock placed a palm over his eyes. He was even thinking like Jim.

 

Spock should have answered with delicacy, but the filter of his mouth was melting from existence, "The thoughts that lurk in your mind are exceedingly persuasive. Please, Jim."

He could not listen to it. He could not hear Jim tell him that in that version, they would be together regardless.

A low gulp later – a snort erupted on the other end – cut off immediately. Spock could almost see Jim cover his mouth and nostrils to halt the sound.

_"I don't know if that's the most complimenting thing I've ever heard, or if it's the most troubling."_

"A quandary I have yet to become accustom to."

 _"And here I thought you made me abandon all my fundamentals."_ There was that snicker again, _"Turns out, I make you abandon them just as much."_

"Because you have me just as much." Spock iterated the belief without thought. Despite the restriction of exhibiting the typical behavior of a loved one, a lover, he could at least say it. He wanted to sing it.

_"…Do I, Spock?"_

It was a doubt that did not belong.

It did not have a place in this Universe or any other.

 _"Say I can show you that freedom."_ Jim urged on. _  
_

Spock felt his nostrils flare in thought of likely and possible sensations. He was overcome and enraptured by it. One word, and he could have Jim with him, where he rightfully belonged.

He bit his tongue, extending his neck and stretching his body to release himself of the climbing tension.

Jim only needed Spock to say 'yes'.

 

One word, and Spock could reintroduce Jim's captivating mind with his. The very idea was intoxicating, and it would lock Jim's version permanent.

A call to Spock's name later, and he shivered, covering his mouth instantly to prevent himself from obliging his every wish.

He could not speak, because if he went against the nature of his being and said 'no' – it would be airing out the false and opposite state of mind he was in. He could not do that to them.

He could not do that to Jim. Silence was a better option for them.

This form of desperation should not exist. It rendered Spock frozen in lust, the heaviness between his legs ceaseless, and the pounding of his mind callous.

It hurt him all over.

 

 _"Goodnight, ashayam."_ Jim whispered.

 

Against logic, he flipped his body, placing himself above the device, mouth open and voiceless.

It was too late, Spock gathering the silk sheets into his fingers and eyes wide from a result he should have expected.

Click.

This anguish could simply be removed if he redialed. But alas, Jim was once again the one who kept to Spock's wishes when he was failing so grandly. No matter the outcome, Jim had to be free to make his decision regarding his future, not stuck to Spock in any way.

An aggravated huff later, Spock rested on his back and counted until his eyelids became heavy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Laughter distances us from that which is ugly and therefore potentially distressing, and indeed enables us to obtain paradoxical pleasure and therapeutic benefit from it.” ― Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra, Don Quixote


	81. AUTHOR'S NOTE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiatus notice.

_Hello fellow readers - old and new._

_I know I promised a good upcoming 40K of new material. I actually hoped to be finished with this story by now. At the time, I had full intentions of posting it after a good editing session. However, life became this truck that slammed me in the face. Each day in front of the screen became a challenge._

_I'm swarmed with exams and currently dealing with another death. This is the third one since I started UNKNOWN, and it's really pissing me off._

_I'm also helping my cousin with her lovely wedding, seeing as I'm the bridesmaid. And to top it all off, I found myself in the most compromising relationship. I don't even know what to call it. Just because I can write about love or how it can fuck someone up, doesn't mean I can implement such knowledge into my real life and act in a logical manner. I'm dancing in foreign territory._

_I'm so, so slumped. I'm trying my best to not relapse. I can't say hello to bulimia when I just got my teeth fixed, all beautiful and pristine. To ruin that would be incredibly idiotic of me._

_All I know is that these sporadic emotions are preventing me from posting my current material, let alone write new ones. This is the worst writer's block I have to date._

_With that, I apologize. This is definitely not what I had planned._

_I did not forget this story. **Nope.**_

_I have great stuff for the ending and although I'm proud of it, I'm not in the mood to post - read comments about it, because I wouldn't be as excited as you._

_I'm trying to be better. All I can ask is that when I do, you're here to celebrate the ending of this story with me. You guys have kept me together for over a year. If I knew where you all lived, I would send you flowers, cookies and giant teddy bears._

_Much love,_

_XEROXIIVA_


	82. POST SIM - THIRTY TWO (1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to be honest. 
> 
> I never thought I would be back here again.  
> Yes, there were days when I felt the mojo & jumped on my computer, except I never made it past two sentences. 
> 
> I lost twenty pounds since my last update. Frankly b/c I’m starving myself. It’s the only thing I can control in my life as of now. 
> 
> I fell in love with my best friend of eight years. I irresponsibly ignored every red flag by the reassurances our stable and beautiful friendship provided. 
> 
> I partially think this is why I hesitate to jump into the mind of Jim without feeling afflicted. He worked so hard to be with Spock. He still is … all while being rejected over and over. 
> 
> Needing to recover is an understatement. I had depression prior to all this drama, that I assumed I couldn’t get any lower. Now here I am, sitting in a new layer below me. 
> 
> I am at a point in which I need to save my life, and I believe going back to my writing is the first step. Therapy will be second. 
> 
> Updates will not be consistent unlike before.  
> The work won’t be as clean, since it’s been so long.
> 
> I will get to your comments when I can.  
> Forgive me. I’m not well. 
> 
> Song: World Gone Mad by Bastille  
> Warning: Spock's depression.
> 
> ~XIIVA

** POST SIM - THIRTY TWO (1) **

 

 _It happened again._  
  
_Spock made camp outside his room once he was confident that Jim was sleeping soundly. The futility of never being able to take this pain away from Jim had marked him as a failure in his own eyes._  
  
_Removing unsettling feelings and other forms of pain was completed by a mere touch with extensive concentration. However, this kind of pain maniacally cackled at Spock’s silly attempt at any kind of manipulation._  
  
_It would punish him by worsening Jim’s condition by each step Spock took forward to remove this threat._  
  
_The cold floor of the hallway sent shivers through Spock’s lower body as he let his head rest on the shut door behind him. He made certain to rake his overgrown hair out of the way. Then to calm himself, he breathed deeply._  
  
_The pulses of throbbing pain from his healing thigh increased his discomfort. It did not matter that Terrence noticed him. It did not matter that Terrence sat beside him, attempting to provide comfort in his human ways. Emotional support, the base called it. Emotional support, Spock learned himself and gave in return whenever he could._  
  
_Spock appreciated the gesture._  
  
_Terrence's curiosity of Spock’s recent experience was a blaring one. Spock did make a scene of himself. He could not begin to explain the feeling of melted muscle, reverberating in ripples over his body. It was the very warning that called Spock to run to Jim from the opposite side of the base._  
  
_His pain or Jim’s, they were one in the same._  
  
_“You said you wouldn’t do it.”_  
  
_The vague statement from Terrence brought upon confusion._  
  
_“Excuse me?” He queried, blinking his eyes, still withdrawing from the spiked adrenaline he experienced minutes earlier._  
  
_“I’m not jealous.” Terrence continued, as if he believed Spock’s confusion to be a sham. “I just thought you had your rules, your way of life and all that - but clearly you don’t care. I don’t think you ever did. Turns out, it was me all along.”_  
  
_Terrence formed an insincere smile, shrugging the insecurity that hit them both._  
  
_It was not that Spock was neglectful of Terrence’s feelings. No. Spock believed his silence of this change between him and Jim to be a sign of mercy - respect even._  
  
_And here Spock was, listening to Terrence utter it all._  
  
_This was imminent from the beginning._  
  
_So Spock settled further into his position, stretching his legs and letting his head rest on the metal._  
  
_Advertising his depleted appearance was his way of exhibiting openness, and that concealing their exhaustion, their changes - were not necessary, especially between them._  
  
_Patiently, he awaited the queries that would be shot his way as Terrence struggled to deliver his thoughts. With anyone else, Spock would have simply answered that whoever he was speaking to did not deserve an explanation._  
  
_But Terrence was different._  
  
_To Terrence, he appeared as a liar and it was overdue a rectification._  
  
_“Vulcans are different, you said,” Terrence finally got out, “Vulcans require a deeper connection, therefore can’t indulge in casual relationships; You said that. Then I told you I was willing to offer whatever you needed, because I saw myself with you.”_  
  
_Spock held in his hiss._  
  
_Terrence voiced out their previous conversation, scoffing away and scratching the side of his light chestnut waves. “I can get through a rejection, but the lengths you went through… Spock, you made me sound like a plague. By your definition, shouldn’t Lightrunner be a plague too?”_  
  
_For a second, Terrence was going to reach out. Spock noticed it from the corner of his eye._  
  
_It never happened._  
  
_They sat with a phantom between them in the disguise of air._  
  
_Spock was not going to deny it. The lack of stimulus in his psyche sometimes made Spock wish for stimulus elsewhere … anywhere. His repressed wants were resurfacing._  
  
_Prior to Jim entering the base, Spock slipped. He could admit it._  
  
_But not only was Terrence empty like everyone else, both of them would be a poor match for the other. It would be as if Spock was in debt to Terrence, or that Spock took advantage of Terrence’s admiration of him._  
  
_A cold transaction._  
  
_Yes, Spock slipped, showing an inkling of arousal. The need for physical affection was a growing inevitability. Although he has not touched Jim in this manner, Jim yearned for it despite his own bodily complications._  
  
_Once Jim healed, it would only be a matter of time. The Vulcan way was no longer a sustainable option. Without the bond, he was certain that the reason for his reactions and desire to be near Jim was his mind reaching to another compatible one._  
  
_The wishful parts of him screamed 'telsu'._  
  
_Terrence licked his bottom lip and crossed his arms, “What’s worse is that I see something going on. I see you stare into space. The others see it too, Chief. I see you randomly change your expression and mood, trying to brush your winces off when we get your attention. You can’t deny that something’s seriously off here.”_  
  
_It was a blunt statement of everything Spock had been feeling. He did not know how to explain how these random intervals of panic were possible. Regardless, he wished to try._  
  
_So Spock parted his lips and exhaled. He was going to speak, except he was hushed by Terrence._  
  
_“It doesn’t make sense.” Terrence continued, his confusion evident, “Cardenas told me that you guys can link with another person, and out of everyone, you’ve decided to attach yourself to someone that’s sick.”_  
  
_“It is of little consequence.” Spock harshly retorted._  
  
_Terrence could not resist his eye-roll, “Oh, really?”_  
  
_Spock narrowed his eyes, “Really.” He repeated in a dry manner, feeling his gut sink again. He could not show Terrence that he was accurate on a certain level._  
  
_He could conquer through this, for he had through Jim’s torture. Nails penetrating open wounds, the brutal suffocation and the smell of rotten meat. It was all unexpected, considering they have not forgone a marital bond._  
  
_This was against his control, and yet, he would never cast it away, acknowledging the advantages that came with it._  
  
_For one, Jim could never hurt without his knowing - like today._  
  
_Like many days._  
  
_“I may be incompatible to you, but he’s basically broken.” Terrence muttered with more jealousy than disdain. “It’s a forced fusion of two shredded wires. All that can happen is a power surge.” Both of Terrence’s hands lifted up, mimicking a explosion, “Chief … I think he’s hurting you. Like actually hurting you. We all see it.”_  
  
_A few names instantly came to mind._  
  
_“Your concerns are duly noted, Terrence.” Spock replied, biting his cheeks. He was still shaking, “I understand the repercussions, but cease addressing Jim as ‘broken’. On occasion, he may not be whole. However, that does not indicate that each piece is somehow unworthy of appreciation.”_  
  
_With each piece, they fit._  
  
_Jim was a warrior, pushing forward even in the face of an unseen enemy, taking control whenever he could. Spock could hear Jim call it Death in his sleep, personifying it._  
  
_The laughter of this enemy resonated in his veins._  
  
_Sometimes the disturbing manifestation of this entity made Spock question as to Jim’s state of mind … and sometimes his experiences._  
  
_Apparently, Death was a familiar friend - One that has hunted Jim before. It seemed that there was a mutual understanding that should Jim call for Death, it would arrive, but not until then._  
  
_Death could try, except it would continue to fail._  
  
_“Didn’t know you were capable of such sentiments.” Terrence nodded twice and stood up, shaking his head after contemplating Spock’s admission. “Dammit, Spock. You look like you want to puke. You ran across the base like a man being chased by a light.”_  
  
_Spock did not deny that either, “Your worries are misplaced. Trust me in this.”_  
  
_“I trust you with my life, fool.” Terrence chastised with a light glare. “Doesn’t mean I can’t worry for you. I didn’t save you, so you could stab yourself in the brain every day. Help him, but don’t sentence yourself.”_  
  
_Spock almost wanted to laugh. He was the one that could sentence Jim if he chose to be irresponsible._  
  
_This was the exact reason that a marital bond was not in his future with Jim._  
  
_If the worst came true … if he were to be ripped from this world, Spock feared Jim would not make it. Jim was not in any condition to tolerate the consequences when he struggled daily with his own._  
  
_Soon, Spock heard Jim call for him in a rugged whimper, distracting him from his melancholic trance. It was a sound that was too faint for the human ears._  
  
_A healing warmth developed at the knowledge that his name was the first thing to escape Jim’s lips when resurfacing from the subconscious._  
  
_“Take care of yourself, Chief.” Terrence said his farewells after noticing Spock’s chin nudge up in high alert._

  
  
_Spock re-entered his room, watching Jim struggle to sit up. With long strides, Spock stood close enough to assist Jim, taking to his position next to Jim soon after._  
  
_Spock was not in favor of the emotions that enveloped him._  
  
_Jim normally awoke with hatred, never feeling sorry for himself, but hating it - hating Death tease him. Most of all, Jim hated the blindness of how he got to this point, his memory still tricky._  
  
_This time, Spock did not sense the hate - only despondency._  
  
_Jim covered his mouth with both palms, his eyes shining after the realization of his setting. This time … this time, Jim wished to scream._  
  
_In the corners of the cafeteria -_  
_In Spock’s room -_  
_In Cardenas’ office and once below with Steven - … all were places in which Jim crashed to the floor._  
  
_Not once was it in on the field._  
  
_Not once was it in front of the younglings._  
  
_“They have seen worse horrors.” Spock reassured him, removing Jim’s hands from those trembling lips. “All they wish for is your health.”_  
  
_He could touch Jim again, and Spock would not let go. Not soon, at least. First, he would take away the little remaining pangs of muscle pain and headache, then he would meditate with his beloved._  
  
_It would end with Jim’s fatigued and a most beneficial rest._  
  
_Spock cupped each side of Jim’s face, one palm stroking Jim’s beard as if petting a newly acquired I-Chaya, easing Jim into calm._  
  
_Jim deeply frowned and leaned into the touch, soon moving his entire body forward to wrap his arms around Spock._  
  
_“How did I do this without you before?” Jim croaked with his mouth resting near Spock’s neck. “I try to think of my days without you and this place, and shit - it’s almost impossible.”_  
  
_Spock could remember the times before purple flowers and red sand, except he could not catch glimpses of the emotions attached to those times, nor his thoughts. It was of no significance if some of those memories contained extensive happiness or trauma._  
  
_These images were the palest of dreams, none of them lucid. He was on autopilot through it all. When compared to his recent memories, he could remember everything with Jim with a clarity that should have frightened him, because it was a clarity that was absent prior to the invasion._  
  
_He thought of this base - home._  
  
_He thought of Vulcan - mournful, knowing he would never cast his eyes on it again. Disturbingly, it was slowly becoming a soothed understanding._  
  
_Jim was lost, scavenging through the fragmented memories as he clung on, the splintering edges threatening to pierce bodies and katra._

 _Spock only wished he had the answers._  
  
_He was powerless._

 

**.**

**.**

**.**

  
Music.  
  
The subtle tunes of acoustic guitar filled Spock’s home, the sounds accompanied by the permeation of multiple scents that were extremely attractive to his senses.  
  
The senses that became accustomed to having people around him without carrying a mental signature ... 

Spock ripped himself from the comforting moment and replaced it with a heightened sense of alert.  
  
He had to protect himself and his people.  
  
In the next second, Spock stood next to his bed, reaching for his right hip to access his weapon, all to clench at the silk material of his robe. All his heightened panic were the remnants of a fading dream, his body still believing to be in the Warehouse.  
  
He breathed in, listening to the humming behind his room door. There were no people - only one.  
  
No … two.  
  
He took in the surrounding of his room and felt the heated breeze of his bare shoulder.  
  
To be so naked of proper awareness, Spock concluded that his meditation must have been most effective. To be so caught off guard was a blessing in disguise - a sign that his mind used the time to recuperate - to become closer to itself again.  
  
Music met him when he opened his door, and he rushed down the thin hallway with his unkempt appearance and bare feet without a care.  
  
“Jesus!” McCoy forgot the half eaten waffle in his mouth and let it fall on the table he was seating next to.  
  
Spock looked past the shocked intruder and landed his sights on the temporary chef instead, conveying every inch of his confusion with the twitches of his eyes. Not that they were deliberate, more automatic from the shock of their presence.  
  
Jim stood next to the kitchen island, surrounded by half open grocery bags. Spock would say that Jim looked too comfortable, and that he seemed to mesh with Spock’s home as if he had done this multiple times, but it all changed when Jim froze once he discovered the source of McCoy’s outcry.  
  
‘Caught off guard’ was the accurate way to describe how Jim stopped his mixing in the bowl and dropped the spoon.  
  
“You are in my home.” Spock stated, finding himself in the same position as he did when faced with Nyota’s return.  
  
“And you’re prancing around like you just escaped the womb.” McCoy responded, shoving is mouth with another waffle.  
  
Jim merely gulped and resumed his mixing, “It’s nothing we all haven’t seen before.” He said as he increased the speed of his stirring.

Spock wondered if Jim would injure his wrist from the force of it.  
  
“Well … let’s all pretend that’s not true.” McCoy puffed up his red tinted cheeks.

Jim ceased his mixing, turning his back to Spock to attend to the sizzling pan. “Good morning, by the way.”  
  
Spock seemed to have forgotten his words, also forgetting the common sense of returning to his room to change into something more ... decent.  
  
“Now, please. Change.” Jim said, pouring the contents onto the pan, dedicated to keeping his gaze away. “Please.” He then added with a gulp.  
  
McCoy dusted off his shoulder, a simple gesture to hide his snicker. There were no crumbs to be found on that pristine white uniform.  
  
Spock then noticed that Jim wasn’t in one himself, sporting his usual navy blue T-shirt and grey sweats.  
  
Spock could not stare, standing in this position too long. He turned around and retreated back to his room, keeping careful watch of the speed of his walk.  
  
He would not run away. He would not power walk. He would do nothing of the sort to catch their attention, and offering more ammunition for McCoy to use against him when the doctor already had a mountain supply of it.  
  
No more, Spock promised himself.  
  
Shutting the door behind him, he then found himself pacing around his bed, scratching the side of his head, just then realizing that his hair was disheveled.

  
  
Was this all a ploy?  
  
A ruse to get Spock to regret his actions last night?  
  
Because he did that enough to himself already.

  
Instead of changing, Spock plopped onto his bed. He laid there - counting the dots on his ceiling. It was only after the fifty-seventh one that Spock began to strip himself of his robe and begin to put on proper clothes. He chose a grey tunic and black slacks, not bothering with shoes.  
  
Once he exited his room, he caught a peek of McCoy, grinning at him. Spock disappeared into the washroom as a result. He tried to erase the over-confident face from his memory by splashing water to properly wake himself up.  
  
He scrubbed his teeth vigorously soon afterwards and marched right back, not feeling the need to utilize the facilities for now.  
  
“Welcome back.” McCoy happily muttered, enjoying this distraction far too much.  
  
Spock noticed the bowl of oats that had a scent of peaches. Peach oats.  
  
The quesadillas mainly consisted of spinach and tomatoes. Too many tomatoes cubes, which was more from acceptable by Spock’s standards - surely an inside joke at how Spock would coat all his meals with tomatoes from the Warehouse garden and synthetic tomatoes in the off-season.  
  
Jim was facing away from him, peeling the tangerines that Spock assumed would be placed on the side dishes. Spock wished to say that it all smelled divine, but he was too distracted. He gravitated to Jim instantly, his nose buried in Jim’s hair as he wrapped his arms around Jim’s warm abdomen.  
  
“Good morning.” Spock whispered, placing his face on Jim’s shoulder as he squeezed tighter.  
  
“Aren’t you in a good mood.” Jim responded with a nervous chuckle, his fingers shaking as he failed to peel the tangerines.  
  
“Most satisfactory now that I am in your company.” Spock admitted. He could not prevent the low moan from the satisfaction of holding Jim this tight. It was as if nothing had changed.  
  
Jim ruggedly breathed out and rubbed his cheek on Spock’s hair, moving his hands to rub at Spock’s forearm. “Figured you’d need me around.”  
  
“And in dire need of sustenance.” He coyly replied, feeling Jim fill and empty his lungs, hearing the quickened beats of Jim’s heart under his limbs. A tune he longed for, he found.  
  
“Most definitely, Spock.”

Jim was correct when he said he would not let Spock out of his sight. Spock’s katra celebrated at the sudden reunion, savoring the forming completion.


	83. POST SIM - THIRTY TWO (2)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And I am back.  
> Sooner than expected, I might add. 
> 
> Thank you so much for the support. You guys gave me my first smile in months.  
> My face hurts from it.
> 
> Song: Weightless by KODA  
> Warning: N/A

**POST SIM - THIRTY TWO (2)**

**.**

**.**

**.**

McCoy’s conversation, the food, and Jim’s presence next to him was most gratifying. He only now realized that for someone who enjoyed the activity of preparing a palatable cuisine, he barely bothered to execute it for himself lately.  
  
Granted, there were other pressing matters, calls left and right,  harassment from the media … insects, begging for more of his comments, when he said everything he had to say.  
  
Don’t over-milk the cow, the Dhars said. And so, Spock followed it, the philosophy one he was much familiar with as well - without the cow analogy, of course.

  
  
“It’s a dead zone in there.” McCoy said, waving a quesadilla in the air, the kale and spinach looking to be one swing away from escaping his grasp. “We’re averaging one SIM participant a day. It’s the biggest ‘fuck you’ to Starfleet if I’ve ever seen one.”  
  
“You should be released by now, Bones.” Jim said, more concerned for McCoy than their growing victory.  
  
With the USS Enterprise SIMs now complete, if Spock could even classify it as that, then McCoy was not morally obligated to remain.  
  
McCoy continued, “Most of 'em have been let go. I’m head of the main team, and Jab’s poor self is stuck with me.”  
  
Jim scrunched his brows, “But he’s leaving soon.” He said, broadcasting his newly acquired knowledge.  
  
“And you will be alone.” Spock added solemnly.  
  
“I’m not alone.” McCoy responded with a smile that appeared almost too alien for his face, “I’ve got Kim and Lee with me.”  
  
Jim poured more lemonade in McCoy’s cup, making this the third one, “They’re treating you well?”  
  
“So well that I think you should look into them.”  
  
Jim smiled with teeth, “Oh?”  
  
“I am assuming that they are unaware of your intentions to recruit them.” Spock pointed out, taking another bite of his food.  
  
“They hate being here. That’s good enough, ain’t it? A mission of this length is exactly what they want.” McCoy responded, “But … then again, are you guys okay with that?”  
  
“I will have to vet them - “ Jim immediate said. He would have said more, but he was cut off by Spock who knew that McCoy was referring to something more personal.  
  
“McCoy is inquiring as to your feelings regarding their presence in the ship.” Spock clarified for McCoy, who was relieved.  
  
“I should be.” Jim said with a tense jaw, “As Captain, I should be.”

It was as if Jim said it to convince himself more than them.  
  
McCoy finished half of his glass and sighed when he placed it back down, “I’m not talkin’ about duty. This is ‘bout your sanity. Our sanity.”  
  
Jim looked at his plate and nodded, “I’ll be fine. Can’t say much for the rest of the crew though. They have to be respectful, but I can’t control what goes on in each deck and behind closed doors.”  
  
Spock noticed McCoy glance at him, a tilt to his head as if asking him to confirm. Spock knew of Jim’s intentions with the operatives, so he lifted a brow - an agreement to Jim’s words. It was skeptical, but agreeable. He trusted Jim’s ambition and efforts.  
  
It was a mere six minutes later that McCoy announced that he had to depart, resuming another day of over-viewing SIMs. Spock stood to walk him out, Jim remaining behind.  
  
“You’re meditating, right?” McCoy asked in a way that indicated that he heard just as much from Jim.  
  
“Indeed.”  
  
“Call him then.” McCoy demanded, obviously referring to M’Benga. “I’m sure he’ll pop a bottle at the news. Lord knows he needs one.”  
  
“I will inform him of my developments.” Spock simply answered. “I will also continue to urge him to reconsider his other strange decisions - “  
  
Both of McCoy’s brows went up, his doubtfulness emitting from every contorted feature, “You’ll lose that one, buddy”  
  
Deep down, Spock knew that to be true.

**.**

**.**

**.**

  
Breakfast in bed, Jim announced as he grabbed the plates and put them in Spock’s room in a hurry. Breakfast in bed, Jim repeated as he yanked at Spock’s shirt, bringing him into the room as well. The action forced Spock to return back to his room backwards by the force of Jim’s hold on him.  
  
Breakfast in bed, Jim said with rouged cheeks, settling onto Spock’s bed with messy sheets placed around his thighs.

Breakfast in bed indeed.  
  
“You already ate half your food and changed and … well, everything, but I can still make ‘breakfast in bed’ apply.” Jim cheesed.  
  
“By finishing our meal in bed…” Spock said, looking down at Jim quizzically.  
  
“Yep.”  
  
“Very well then.”  
  
Jim hummed his pleasure, his body language increasingly inviting, “I told you once, I’m capable of not pouncing you. Come here.”  
  
Spock felt a smile growing on his lips, so he took a step forward and sat across from Jim, and taking a bite into a few tomatoes cubes with his fork.  
  
“Breakfast in bed.” Jim repeated with a smile, gazing at Spock with his chin rested on his knuckles, his legs crossed and looking too enticing for the eyes.  
  
“Determined.” Spock muttered. "As usual."  
  
“Ambitious.” Jim responded, taking a bite of his quesadilla with a mouth filled undaunted grin.  
  
Spock then held the oat filled cup and circled the still hot porridge with his spoon, “I feel compelled to consider a sleep-in day.”

Jim's eyes lit up, "Well, Mr. Spock - never have I thought to see the day in which you drown in laziness."

"I prefer the term 'unproductive'." Spock said rather too quickly.  
  
Jim dipped his head with a groan worthy of a hungry man in the presence of a sustenance filled mirage, “Wouldn’t that be the best, but I got more prep today for that interview the Dhars set up.”  
  
“And I am to meet with the Vulcan cadets today.” Spock aired out one of his duties, wishing their were none.  
  
“Yeah, it’s more than the graduating class whispering." Jim showed his satisfaction by nudging Spock with his elbow. "So I heard.”  
  
Spock concurred in a hum, “The audience is growing. I suspect every one of them will be present - “  
  
“Have you talked to Lt. Grayensha?” Jim inquired, “The others are taken by her, … and I wouldn’t mind.”  
  
“Why is this of importance to you, Jim?” Spock asked, confused and wanting to praise Jim’s efforts simultaneously. He saw the way Jim looked at V’ek, wary but smiling all the same. It was the oddest display of contradiction he’d ever witnessed. “You rarely spoke of the other Vulcan cadets or officers before.”  
  
“That was because you didn’t.” Jim shrugged, a little insecure in this line of topic, “And now, it’s like you’re one big family. It would suck to be separate from them again. I won't have a part in you being separate from them."  
  
The Enterprise was Spock’s family too.  
  
“When our paths are clear, I will consider it.” Spock watched Jim look at his food, avoiding eye contact now.  
  
Spock did not care for his father’s words. He was not some bachelor, even if he was considered as such among the Vulcans. With Sarek’s words in mind, V’ek never once expressed any romantic interest, only admiration. They were partners. It was a sincere friendship.  
  
V’ek appeared too wounded to consider such an endeavor anyhow.  
  
His father was incorrect in his observations.  
  
Spock only wanted to dive into Jim’s dream … because it was his dream as well. Together, wherever and public.  
  
“Good.” Jim said.  
  
“Should I extend the offer to the rest of them when we meet?” Spock managed to jest, causing Jim to pat his own chest as he coughed.  
  
There would be Vulcans on every ship after graduation. It was a known fact, however Spock liked to imagine McCoy becoming bald by tolerating many of them on the Enterprise.  
  
Jim must have imagined it too.  
  
“It’s too early for that one!” Jim raised his voice, pushing Spock away as he tried to contain his guffaws.  
  
“It is a serious inquiry.” Spock blinked, deliberately appearing clueless.  
  
Jim chuckled some more. “I wouldn’t mind, but I can see Bones now.”  
  
It was comforting, forgetting the possible path that was directly parallel to the one they preferred.  
  
Jim let out an audible exhale, advertising his relief. “Ah, man. I feel better.”  
  
It was precisely what Spock wished to achieve. Considering Jim’s tasks for the day, Spock knew that Jim needed that comfort too.  
  
“Screw this exclusive.” Jim blurted out, “I know it’s SIM related, but I know it’s more than that. I’ll be obligated to share some things and I just …” He paused, wiping his forehead. “I guess a sleep in day, it is. Right here.”  
  
Tarsus IV.  
  
That was what Jim felt obligated to speak upon. No veteran journalist would miss the opportunity.  
  
“This is a respected platform, Jim. I assure you, there is nothing to concern yourself with since all contents will be reviewed and approved prior to its publication.”  
  
“Realistically, yeah.” Jim agreed, “Is it selfish to still want to keep it all to myself?”  
  
“No.” Spock immediately answered, “And never believe that you are obligated to share things you are not ready to.”  
  
“I could cancel.” Jim contemplated aloud, rubbing the side of his neck. "Why did I open this can of worms?"

**_So you could save the many._ **

  
“They would have to follow your terms.” Spock reminded him.  
  
“My terms…” Jim repeated with a drawl.  
  
“The only terms.”  Spock affirmed.  
  
Jim seemed very amused by the concept, “A seductive idea.”  
  
Not enough in Spock’s perspective, “You will do whatever you wish in the end."  
  
“You have too much faith in me." Jim’s lazy grin morphed into a beaming smile. “I’ll reconsider, but I doubt I’ll chicken out of this. It’s not like I’m handing myself to the  Apollo Inquirer or some other junk tabloid. I would be shredded."  
  
Spock observed Jim’s shifts in mood. That cheeky confidence was there, but it was not the same.  
  
Jim exhaled, “If only there were more information out there to begin with, then people wouldn’t depend so much on me to revive those memories.”  
  
This reality made Spock wish there were others out there that could take care of this task, except for all he knew, they were dead - except the one.  
  
And that was only an over-hyped, worn out theory.  
  
“You are no longer a child.” Spock said, “Perhaps it is better this way, because you are able to organize your thoughts, properly conveying what you have experienced and seen.”

Children would have never been able to endure the outside scrutiny, only wanting to be left alone to heal. It would have left little Jim traumatized, constantly speaking about a place he only had a flower to remember by.  
  
“I would have been a blabbering fool back then.” Jim said with a light scoff, “... We all would’ve been. Then we would have had pillow sheets over our faces for the years after. Imagine that.”  
  
Spock took another bite of his well prepared meal, Jim following suit, the two eating their food in comforting silence. Being famished after meditation was the norm, so Spock was dedicated to finishing everything Jim made for him.  
  
Once Jim put the fork in his mouth for the last time, he lifted himself off the bed and made his way out after uttering a curse under his breath. Spock found that the fifteen seconds alone was enough to fill in his lungs sufficiently. The act was a realization that he did not breathe in deep enough before. He discovered that he was nervous of making a sound, that would surely be heard from being this close to Jim.

He could claim the behavior abnormal, however it was a familiar one nonetheless. It was all he experienced during the first few weeks of Jim's arrival to the base. This time, he had a name for it.

He was not only nervous of his sounds, but of what the sounds would indicate. Jim could have classified it as a sign of something else, something more exposing.  
  
Jim would not have been wrong.  
  
A ruse, Spock wished he could say because Jim was definitely making him relive things he could do without. Especially after the tantalizing state he delved himself into last night.  
  
“I forgot these.” Jim gleefully announced, returning with a set of napkins and his device at hand. Spock accepted a few, catching the sight of Jim suck on his salt and crust coated thumb as he looked at his glowing screen.  
  
The tip of a Jim’s wet, pink tongue peeked out to give one final sweep of the glistening skin and Spock had to dart his eyes away.  
  
He was not an animal.  
  
“If I granted the Dhars more rein, we’d be having photoshoots, on covers of magazines and such.” Jim snickered, scrolling his comm and oblivious to Spock’s internal conflict. “We’d look fantastic, but that’s a bit too much.” He added with a wink.  
  
“Too excessive. It would become a distraction - “ Distractions, distractions.

Distractions everywhere. Spock could have cursed.  
  
“Because everyone’s fawning over you already.” Jim then cast a quick glance at him, his eyes trailing down to Spock’s clavicles, “You can’t be deaf to what’s going on out there. Can’t blame ‘em.”  
  
Spock gulped, unable to deny the revelation, “I have overheard a few things.”  
  
“And here I thought it was bad when I was a cadet. Mr. Tall-Dark-And-Handsome.” Jim continued to tease, placing his comm next to his empty plate. “Mr. Too-Sexy-For-His-Own-Good.” He provocatively murmured as he crawled closer, resting both palms on each side of Spock’s legs.  
  
Spock felt his body sinking by the weight of Jim around him, somehow inching closer instead of away. With Jim’s nose ghosting over his, he scanned Jim’s eyes and found something.  
  
“Are you well?” He blurted out.  
  
Jim responded with a blanked blink, attempting to retract back to his seated position.

Spock prevented him by holding onto Jim’s shirt.  
  
“Jesus." Jim whispered, held in his spot. "I can’t say a compliment without worrying you.”  
  
“You care for me. Allow me the same courtesy.” That sounded evasive, even to Spock’s ears.  
  
“I’m fine, Spock.” Jim dismissively responded, “There are about a million things I haven’t said in this world, and it’s a crime that I haven’t. Forgive me for starting now.”  
  
Jim wished to begin, except it was an inaccurate sentiment.  
  
Jim had already started since the moment they awoke.

Vigorously.  
  
“Ashayam.” Spock reminded him, pulling Jim closer to resume their rightful position, “That is what you have bestowed on me for the first time in this world.”  
  
A loud swallow emitted from Jim’s throat, stuck in how to respond. If Spock let Jim go, he was sure that Jim would rest his eyes on another object. Spock would not let him.  
  
“What you have placed on my katra had more of a therapeutic effect than any meditation,” Spock eagerly continued, “If I had known the relief that could manifest from it, I would have begged it of you sooner.”  
  
Jim could have projected his thoughts through any other word. His Captain, his beloved, chose to reach out in a way that would make Spock receptive, warmed and blessed by the gesture.  
  
Spock wanted Jim to repeat it again so that it could be more real. He wanted Jim to repeat everything he learned in the other life, whether by Spock or Dr. Cardenas, right here - in the authenticity that was their current place.

In their actual skin.  
  
It was real, and there was no need to reassure himself, only reassure it within Jim.  
  
“Ashayam.” Spock aired out, letting go of Jim’s shirt to wrap his arm around the right side Jim’s waist. “That is real.”  
  
“Y…yes.” Jim stuttered, fluttering his eyes as he followed Spock’s motions to come closer.  
  
“And you are still my sun.” Spock declared, his words ghosting over Jim’s lips. “You questioned that, so now you are to repeat after me.”  
  
Jim was tilting his head so they could fit better, probably unknowing of his actions, moving by instinct. This position was one Spock wished to pause, to examine it scrupulously and stay in its comfort.  
  
Its cloud, is what Jim called it in his head.  
  
“Repeat after me.” Spock asked in a way that sounded too wanting, nothing like the stern demand he intended to utter.  
  
“I am …” Jim was lifting his hands, floating them above Spock’s thighs as if afraid to touch. It was not right for Jim to halt his words, as if nervous of the reaction, as if there would be consequences.  
  
Spock could easily hold the sides of Jim’s face between his palms and discover it all. If he did, he would never let go.  
  
“Say it.”  
  
Spock’s impatience was acknowledged, Jim opening his quivering lips in response. “I am your sun.”    
  
“Do not forget that. I implore you.” He could touch, taste and bite. He literally could, but by some mystical element within him, he refrained. This was not the time.  
  
“This is hard,” Jim husked out, moving away and patting his own lap as he sharply exhaled. “Fuck, this is really hard, Spock.” He added, standing up from the bed and flattening his shirt. "This is fucking with me. I can't function."  
  
Spock felt cold from the abandoned space, unable to turn in Jim’s direction, sure that Jim was exhibiting that same strained smile.  
  
“I know it. I feel it, but let’s not act like our boundaries don’t speak for itself. The boundaries _you_ created.”  
  
Spock sucked in his lips, understanding Jim’s statement. Their limits not only spoke, but spoke volumes.  
  
“Good luck today with all those youngins.” Jim said, indicating that he would leave.  
  
Spock merely tilted his head and listened to the cracked sigh that escaped from Jim.  
  
“I’ll catch up with you later.” Jim mumbled out with his head down, and power walked away from the room.  
  
Away from Spock. If it were not for the lingering scent choking Spock, he would have thought it all a dream.

Spock could only wonder how mankind had survived so far with such a crippling burden.

Dreams were ... unnecessary. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up Next >> Nyota !


	84. POST SIM - THIRTY TWO (3)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another update!
> 
> For all you Nyota lovers out there, don't worry - I missed her too. I hope you enjoy this.
> 
> More Spock's POV!
> 
> Warning: Cockroaches  
> Song: Coaster by Khalid
> 
> ~X

**POST SIM - THIRTY TWO (3)**

**.**

**.**

**.**

After the meeting with the Vulcan cadets, T’Mureen accompanied Spock on one end, boasting of her collection with much satisfaction. Spock showed his growing interest, adding that he could not possibly contribute to the extensive knowledge of gathered herbs and spices in the dorm walls. It was exceptional as is.  
  
On the other end, Steek was there humming in agreement, still exhibiting his usual passive behavior. Spock predicated the sentiment, Steek only being near him by Spock's order.  
  
Once T’Mureen waved to a human cadet passing by, she bid them her farewells before sauntering off.  
  
“Why do you require my company, Mr. Spock?”  
  
“Because although you are participating, thus having convinced many cadets to, your apprehension does not go unnoticed.” Spock admitted to what he has observed within the cadet, “I believe that such apprehension originates from a personal nature.”  
  
Steek twisted his thin lips and raised a brow. He stopped in his step and looked around the filled hallways, “No comment.”  
  
Spock moved closer to the cadet and practically sneered. “Explain.”

The disrespect.   
  
“Twenty-three times I have said ‘No comment.’” Steek clarified.

Spock softened his face as a result.

“I have typed it eighteen times in my e-mails and comm notifications. I have said so, five times, two to the same reporter who is under the impression that we are too identical to differentiate. Limited fool.”  
  
Spock was under the belief that security measures were taken with all the cadets involved on Starfleet grounds. Clearly that was not the case since they were continued to be ambushed.  
  
“One reeked of a common canine, the remnants of white fur coating his unkempt shirt. One lacked the hygiene to rid his breath of coffee, that distasteful beverage.” Steek frowned deeply as if the odor was shoved up his nasal cavities just by the thought, “The other believed that the evident accentuation of her physical features could persuade me to iterate information of my people.”  
  
The immediate image of a woman squeezing her breasts to persuade a cadet was enough for a disappointed sigh on both their ends.  
  
“I say ‘no comment’. I _breathe_ , ‘no comment’, except I find myself wanting to replace that statement with something more … memorable.”  
  
Spock had been there and knew he couldn’t alienate or make Steek feel defective in any way. Steek was confiding in him, speaking of his desires to swat the insects away immediate. They both understood that if weak, the result would be a detrimental one.

Many were waiting for it.   
  
“I cannot deny that the idea is tempting.” Spock said with a knowing look. “It would be satisfying to insult them, just as some of the other cadets have.” Colorfully too.  
  
Steek huffed, “Very. These childish antics are foreign to me. I have never been pursued in this degree.”  
  
“Regardless, you are to keep your composure.” Spock reminded him. He had been doing this his entire life. “If a half-human can succeed in this, then I am certain you can.”    
  
Steek had said as much on at least three occasions, the information gifted by V’ek herself. Steek’s blank blinks and dropped jaw was enough to confirm the reports.  
  
“I meant no offense.”  
  
“It is a simple reminder. The image we present is a delicate one. We are to show that we are affected, and that our feelings are warranted. However, we will not have that mistaken for ‘fragility’.” Spock assured, “The day I break, feel free to follow, but until then - “ He stepped closer and turned to the side, dropping his voice, “You are to reply ‘no comment.’”  
  
Spock took his leave, marching ahead to make his way for a much belated appointment. He ignored the looks and stares, knowing that it had nothing to do with his formal clothes and the shadowed amethyst shall over his shoulders. They looked his way because of something else, and that something was either intimidation or adoration.

He did not bother to deduce which one it was now.  
  
Nyota was waiting for him.

**.**

**.**

**.**

  
“This Academy is more restless than I remember.” Nyota said, looking ahead as she sat next to Spock in the main front park, the fountain splashing behind them.  
  
With drinks in hand, they observed the crowd of uniformed individuals.  
  
“It’s unfortunate, really. Again, this has become a place of mourning.” Nyota added, looking ahead. “Death of the unknown all around us.”

Nyota's observations were accurate, although she has not experienced this herself. She never lost an add-on. Revisiting what Spock had witnessed of her SIM, he almost felt inclined to say she cheated. She never bothered to know any of the add-ons that floated her way.  
  
“Do you believe yourself to be so lucky?” Spock inquired.  
  
“I didn’t before,” she hummed, “…guess I should now,” she then added, scouring the fallen shoulders in front of her.  
  
Spock nodded, “It is as you said - There is no room for friendship with the nomadic.”  
  
“I miss the adventure.” She said, stretching her arms, indicating that she wished to branch out of this cage around her. “Everything here is so dull. All we can do is watch the restlessness become unbearable. I need out of this tediousness.”  
  
Spock raised a brow at that.  
  
“Why do you think I started that list so early?” She smiled wide, “This mission can’t come soon enough.”  
  
For six days, Spock observed Nyota complete all the objectives within her SIM, traveling from village to village without a care. Whenever trouble came by, Spock would hold his breath, always releasing it with the satisfaction that Nyota could hold her own.  
  
Despite the memory manipulations, Nyota used her already acquired knowledge in hand to hand combat, along with the few skills Spock taught her himself, which caused SIM Nyota to question the origins of such skills.  
  
Another glitch, Spock concluded right after.    
  
With the exception of Round Four, she was flawless in her execution. Even with the seven hours and twelve minutes of capture, Nyota evaded any chance of extreme harm with her words, utilizing her intellect in the best way, that Spock returned home that night proud.  
  
A expert profiler, the admirals called her.  
  
Spock blinked, watching Nyota point to one far-off person in particular.  
  
“Look at that.” She said, coaxing Spock’s attention.    
  
“And who might that be?” Spock inquired again, acknowledging that he indeed had no recollection of this man. His suit seemed over-worn, the ends of his top too short to actually be owned by him. Granted, this was a public park, however this man was not Starfleet.  
  
“Exactly what I’m wondering.”  
  
The man beamed when Nyota and Spock steadily approached him, putting his pen behind his ear and replacing his notepad for a recorder.  
  
The model was a familiar one that if it were painted in a repulsive orange, he would have said it was Jim’s.

But then again, Jim never owned one.  
  
Not really.  
  
“Good afternoon.” Nyota greeted him with the kindest of manufactured smiles.  
  
Spock inhaled deeply to prepare himself.  
  
“Well, if this isn’t a goldmine of a greeting.” The young man pinched his left earlobe with a nervous chuckle, looking to Nyota and Spock like they were the answer to his prayers. “Lovely day we’re having here.” He continued with intended humor - A poorly executed one.  
  
Spock noticed the man’s double eye-bags, his veins shining to the sky from under such pale skin. He looked like a third year cadet that was drowning in work.  
  
“Just perfect.” Nyota answered, her smile dropping as if served enough of its purpose, “I would love to push this conversation further, but I don’t happen to have your name.”  
  
“What’s your name?” The man responded with a challenging glare.  
  
“You know who I am.” Nyota answered with a small smirk.  
  
The man looked to Spock and scoffed. “Right, then I take it we’re not playing games.”  
  
“I like games.” Nyota quickly replied. “But something tells me your kind is boring and overplayed.”  
  
“So, is it wishful to think you came to offer me a quote?” The man asked, scratching at the shadow on his jaw, “Or am I just too attractive to ignore?”  
  
Nyota’s lips parted, curving up a bit to show that she was growing more entertained, not bothering to conceal any of it. In fact, her little laugh indicated that he should be the one to be intimidated.  
  
Spock was not interested to see this play out, cutting Nyota’s gabs short. “And who do you work for, Mr …?”  
  
“Well, Mr. Spock, little ‘ol me’s name is Mooney.” He partially answered, casting a look at Spock from head to toe, predatory in his gaze. “I’m just here to get the truth and to take in the sense of atmosphere. Have to say, it’s kinda smothering me right about now. Poor souls.”  
  
“The majority of those involved have said plenty.” Spock informed him, not appreciating the mocking pity. “Your efforts are needless at best.”  
  
“Three other esteemed diplomats from Federation planets have affirmed their position again today.” Nyota added, “Our Captain is to speak again soon. What more do you need?”  
  
“I believe this man endeavors to seek compromising information.” Spock voiced his deduction, disgruntled at the revelation.  
  
Shame.  
  
“It wouldn’t be my fault if someone said something _compromising_.” Mooney responded with an eye-roll. “I don’t point phasers to their faces. A simple civilian like me doesn’t own one.”  
  
“And to whom do you provide service for?”  Spock iterated, dissatisfied that he even had to.  
  
“ Apollo Inquirer.” Mooney said with misplaced pride.  
  
Spock internally cringed, wanting to personally ensure this man’s removal.  
  
“Unbelievable.” Nyota exasperated, raking her free strands to move them away from her face, making a display of showing every inch of that exasperation.  
  
“My presence here is pretty believable, lady.”  
  
“You don’t seem to get how this relationship works, Mooney.” Nyota began to educate him with ease, “You don’t get to prance on these grounds with this false entitlement exuding from your pores. You don’t get to sweet-talk cadets and officers that only want to go by their days unperturbed. You don’t get to harass us all, dressed in your ill-fitted suit, plastering a smugness that you’ve done nothing to deserve.”  
  
Mooney looked thoroughly disturbed, as if his mental gears were maladjusted. He winced when Nyota squinted her eyes as if looking down at Klingon scum.  
  
“You don’t approach us.” She further emphasized, ”We approach you, and when we do, it’s not and never will be to some infamous tabloid, mainly known for publishing inaccurate and embellished excuse for information, most recently guilty of trashing each victim of Witwicker Fazim case, a now convicted felon."  
  
Tabloid trash was what the cadets called the Apollo Inquirer, and with the material Spock had gathered, his growing beliefs were easily confirmed. He could still hear Edmond’s wheezing from the unending laughter when the Apollo Inquirer was briefly mentioned.  
  
There were people out there that had occupations specifically to target the most recent sensation and dedicated to bury them.  
  
Nyota pursed her lips, “So Commander Spock and I will act like you weren’t here.”  
  
“This is a public park - “ Mooney was unable to continue, too distracted by the flash that took place in front of his face.  
  
“Details.” Nyota shrugged, as she looked at the picture she just took.  
  
“You are to leave the premises, Mr. Mooney, and you will never return to sites heavily influenced by Starfleet personnel for your nefarious agenda.” Spock warned him, “Now before you can think that detecting each of your excursions will be impossible, I will inform you that your photo is now pinned on the Academy forums, rendering all attempts at appearing as a simple civilian useless.”  
  
A curse escaped the reporter, tucking away his recorder and stepping back. “You look down at us when we show sides of a story everyone’s too scared to bother with.”  
  
“We look down on you because you fail to follow the most basic protocol for journalism.” Nyota snapped shut her communicator, placing it in her pocket and taking a long sip of her drink, too bothered to continue with this.  
  
“We have our sources.” Mooney defensively replied.  
  
Spock wished to let go of an unending sigh building up within him. He heard that very sentiment enough from the Dhars. “Sources, with which you manipulate on every occasion until they are molded into your image, Mr. Mooney.”  
  
“Remove yourself.” Nyota ordered. “You won’t get any victims today.”  
  
It was irritating that Mooney blinked at them, thinking that he could somehow stand his ground when this was matter was already concluded in Spock’s eyes. Once Nyota asked if he had become deaf, she then informed the stranger that she would happily repeat her demands in ASL.  
  
Mooney retreated from his spot soon after, offended to a point that he began to obtain a pink hue over his freckled skin. Spock kept his sights glued to the reporter’s back until he mixed into the background, becoming nothing but a spec in the horizon.  
  
“I never want to see him again.” Nyota muttered over the rim of her cup.  
  
“You will.” Spock declared, not speaking of Mooney specifically, “They multiply.”  
  
“Cockroaches.” She hissed.  
  
Spock suddenly gained the urge to reply that a cockroaches’ existence was a mistake in itself - but Nyota would not understand the illogical sentiment or where it originated from.  
  
Spock ignored the tug in his chest and moved along.

  
**.**

**.**

**.**

  
Spock organized and collected the necessary above his office desk, intending to make it so that he would not have to return for the next coming months. Exams were officially complete, and with Professor Lt. Commander Carson’s additions to the reviews from his own lectures, the student’s grades were more than satisfactory.  
  
He has not conducted a single class since awaking from his SIM, however these results  proved Carson to be an exceptional partner.  
  
“I can’t believe we’re back here.” Nyota did a twirl in the middle of his office, plopping on the side of Spock’s table, turning off the news broadcasting holoscreen in front of her.  
  
“You were the one that wished to accompany me here today.” Spock noticed Nyota's slight discomfort. With good reason.  
  
“True. I guess I didn’t think it through.” She simply shrugged her shoulders when she caught his stare. “Professor Spock once again.”  
  
“I can return later, Nyota.”  
  
She shook her head, probably believing that leaving would be no different than a retreat. “Not necessary.”    
  
This office was a confessional for both of them. Spock remembered this, and he just realized that this setting could still have an impact on Nyota. He had been here too many times that he became immune to the nostalgia.  
  
“Have to say, thought it’d be easier.” She then said, sighing with a drop to her shoulders, wistfully looking around the white walls.  
  
Spock stopped his motions, taking a moment to push aside the pounding memories.  
  
“I would run here at every opportunity just to kiss you, especially when we were first unable to do it anywhere else.” Nyota spoke out, touching her bottom lip with her thumb.  
  
Spock fell into his seat, unbothering with the material before him at this point. This room was a solace for them on Academy grounds, prior to officiating their relationship. This room remained so afterwards, sacred moments in which they could speak to each other in whichever way they pleased, not limited by rank or appearance.  
  
Nyota would lead him here, staying with him for hours with their fingers together as they both worked. Nyota would hold him and project all her love.  
  
There were days in which Spock would lead her here too, one evening taking the initiative to remind her that she could simply be, in a time when she felt she could not.  He remembered the loud rips of Nyota’s defenses as Spock informed her that his grief did not have to override hers. She could feel with him too.  
  
“You made me cry like a child in here once, and I swore I wouldn’t show that kind of weakness around you.” Nyota described that moment as if peeking into Spock’s mind.  
  
Four months since his immeasurable loss, and Spock could no longer tolerate the pounding silence from Nyota. One person, Nyota said then. One person, unknown comrades, and Spock lost billions - therefore she felt it a great offense to grieve around Spock.  
  
“We have dealt with a great deal in this room.” Spock pondered aloud, noticing how Nyota looked straight ahead to the shut off holoscreen, avoiding eye contact.  
  
“Imagine if we had to keep everything in here, never growing out of it, a prisoner to these four walls. That would have been so suffocating.” She reckoned. “You and I wouldn’t have had a chance if we didn’t tell the Academy board to piss off.”  
  
Spock chose to stay silent, waiting to see where Nyota was leading with this. She never spoke unless leading to something significant, always coming out victor.  
  
“Then again, we never had a chance either way.” She added with a lower voice, “...Did I ever apologize?”  
  
Spock knew that answer and that was ‘negative’. Regardless, he had no intentions of actually saying that and instead took to leaning forward from behind his desk.  
  
“It is not necessary that we discuss this - ”  
  
“I was going to tell you in China, you know? If you actually arrived.” She interjected, gripping the sides of Spock’s desk as she sat. “I was going to say that I’m sorry for easing away from you, and avoiding the need to be upfront - this is ignoring the fact that you’ve been upfront with me with everything. I know you’ve felt the distance before I said anything.”  
  
Nyota whipped the lasso, Spock caught in the middle of its power, “You were dedicated to concealing your hesitation.” He somehow said when he should have said nothing. The dwindling affection he experienced was a feeling he wanted erased, let alone spoken of.  
  
“I thought I would get over it. I have the knowledge, Spock. I communicated with you in not only your language, but of your regional dialect. I felt so in tune with you and there could only be better.” Nyota truly believed that they could succeed, climbing to the top of the pyramid to reign forever. “Telepathy shouldn’t have been so … so - “  
  
“It is difficult, and as you stated in the past, _invasive_.” Spock felt the pressure on his throat, similar to the day that he had to first deliberately ignore the topic of bonds or mind-meld so that he could salvage an evening. It was a simple thing he prevented, and yet it was the symbol of how his essence was a topic that was supposed to be avoided.    
  
“Invasive...” Nyota mocked her past self with a tap to the desk. “I could not have been more cruel. I thought that I was doing you a favor. I thought that this would free you to find someone that could not only hold, but nurture that part of you.”  
  
In that moment, Spock was thankful that Nyota’s back was facing him.  
  
“I just thought that when that occurred, ... you would confide in me.”  
  
That only meant one thing, and it was that Nyota believed for that to have occurred, and Spock was not prepared in the least, feeling electrocuted by each syllable.  
  
“But then again, you two are probably stuck in your own office somewhere, waiting to branch out of those walls.”  
  
Spock remained still in his stupor, seeing Nyota suck in her bottom lip from the side of her profile. It was the perfect analogy, the SIM being his office - locked and restrained from practicing any affection. From executing his will.  
  
Nyota watched him, her ease faltering only so slightly, “Please tell me I’m not wrong in this, otherwise this is very embarrassing.”  
  
Spock swallowed audibly, her patience not wearing thin - forever still for Spock’s response. Always so considerate.  
  
“You are not wrong.” He admitted.  
  
Nyota nodded twice, taking a moment to compose in the face of confirmation. Her skills in seeing more than the average human, able to read tension and emotion like another language, did little to wane the shock that spiked through Spock's body.

  
“It’s not like he’s the one that separated us, I know that." She disclaimed, "I doubt he even understood what was going on half the time, too oblivious for his own good. ...Too sick to really get it, I imagine.”  
  
Spock's transition in that time was one he was blind to. There were the usual queries of where he was when he was needed. There were queries of where he would be after classes. There were queries … then there were assumptions.  
  
No one bothered to inquire as to his whereabouts afterwards.

With Jim. Always.  
  
“We all cared for him." Spock uttered.  
  
Nyota only looked to have wanted to wrap him in a cocoon of reassurance, “But you halted your life - ”  
  
“Let us not forget that we would not have one to speak of, if not for him.” Spock spat out too fast, shutting his mouth after. He was appearing too defensive.  
  
“But you lived there, Spock. Don’t erase the significance of that.” Nyota only gave him a closed lip smile, eyes winced as if she were in pain.  “I’m trying to have an adult conversation here.”  
  
Spock found himself rendered silent, confused as to how this conversation was actually happening.  
  
He always saw it taking place with him speaking of it to Nyota, separate from the rest. He would be in control.

With her, he was obligated to explain things differently than what he would do for the others. She had to be made known that Jim was not a factor in their distance, except she concluded that on her own.  

She was the one in control.  
  
“I’m assuming you knew before him.” Nyota then shook her head, her hair swaying with the movements, “Of course you did. You’re more in tune with yourself. You may not have known what to call it, but I’m sure its presence was undeniable.” She then said, smiling with her eyes. “Kirk wouldn’t know love if it hit him in the face. Love for his crew, yes. But not love like this.”  
  
Jim admitted as much, claiming that he was learning along with Spock. Since they knew exactly what this was now, they could further explore it together. There was a certain perplexing comfort with the knowledge.  
  
“But he’s also too smart to treat this as some experiment. We wouldn’t call him Captain if he was capable of something so disgusting.” Nyota said, “I bet he’s jumping at every challenge and probably winning - too stubborn.”  
  
Nyota could not have been more accurate. It had Spock wonder if she somehow accessed his SIM footage.  
  
“Kirk mustn’t have batted an eye at the idea of ‘pon farr’, probably spouting some nonsense about rough sex being kinky.” She pointed out, knowing that if Spock were to court anyone, he would obviously disclose that information.  
  
Spock was responsible.  
  
Obviously.  
  
Little did she know that responsibility was ignored by his SIM self, all to be replaced with perturbation. Of course it was. The probability of seeing the next day was a small one, let alone the next week. Let alone until the upcoming of pon farr.  
  
Regardless, that was not a justifiable excuse.  
  
Guilt.  
  
Guilt clawed at him like an old friend. With his father’s reminder and Nyota’s assumptions, Spock had to rectify this at once, dreading the reaction.

He was harrowed by the inevitability.  
  
“You deserve so much more than what I gave you.” Nyota declared, oblivious to Spock’s internal conflict, “In fact, I was hoping you would end up with a Vulcan specifically because of what I’ve done - having never to experience that limitation again.”  
  
Spock had to stop Nyota from sinking further into her inaccurate perception of culpability, “Acknowledging your limits later in our relationship does not equate to you having ‘done’ something to me.”  
  
“If your mother did it, I thought I could too.” Nyota confessed, jumping down from the desk and resting her hands on her hips, “Sounds silly.”  
  
“It is.” Spock replied, eliciting a strained chuckle from her. “You are not and never will be my mother, Nyota. This is our truth.”  
  
“And your truth is that you love him.” She met his eyes and didn’t waver her hypnotizing stare.  
  
“Very much so.” Spock found himself saying, not hesitating and probably answering with more confidence than she expected.  
  
Nyota grinned at that, satisfied that she was correct, “It’s a weird feeling, isn’t it?”  
  
She was speaking to him as if he was clueless to the topic, not having engaged in romantic relations before. “I loved you.”  
  
Did he not?  
  
“You loved the idea of me like how I loved the idea of you. You’re Vulcan, Spock - you can’t love like that or want to hold someone like that unless you’ve merged in ways I didn’t let you.” She revealed the fact with a sense of resolve, “You unknowingly made a home with him. You must have experienced that ten times more in the SIM, not confound by the garbage that Starfleet loves to drop all over you. The fact that it only took me one occasion to see you two together POST-SIM to confirm my thoughts means something.”

It meant everything.  
  
Spock felt like a fool in actually believing that he could inform Nyota of anything, her skills far surpassing any living being -

“Nyota - “  
  
She cut him off, “You called me asking for a friend, and Spock …. you sounded so haunted that if it weren’t for my responsibilities, I would have returned within hours. So no, it’s not the same.” She concluded, doing one shake of her head and snapping her lips. “You know it’s not because I never broke you like that.”


	85. POST SIM - THIRTY TWO (4)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Status Update On My Life : Not getting any better. But this story is important to me. You are important to me. 
> 
> For those that have made it this far, you deserve this chapter.
> 
> Song: EASE (Lontalius Remix) by Troye Sivan & Brooks  
> Warning: Vulcan Biology.
> 
> ~X

###  POST SIM - THIRTY TWO (4)

.

.

.

In the far off edge of one of the dozen parking lots around headquarters, Spock felt the outside breeze from the passenger door lifting up and closing soon after. Another set of breaths accompanied his.  
  
Early dinner, he promised.   
  
Jim was jaunty by the sudden invitation, which caught Spock off guard because he was certain that Jim more than tired from spending the day on prepping his material for tomorrow. This is not including the other extraneous tasks that involved overlooking and reading reports of the ship’s final additions, meeting with a portion of the assigned officers and volunteers for the final Enterprise additions, all of whom were overlooked by Scott.  
  
Scott seems better, Jim said - smiling that he finally got to be away from it all. Kidnapping, Jim called it with jubilance.   
  
Spock was hearing Jim, however the words were buzzing, not having once looked in Jim’ direction yet. His mind translated the words, but he could not say that he was listening.   
  
Jim would notice soon.   
  
Jim did notice.   
  
“Spock, what the hell?” Jim snapped his fingers in front of him, “Are you there?”  
  
Spock repeated to himself that it was too soon, which was a lie. The more accurate thought was that it was too late.   
  
Even so, the setting was a claustrophobic one.   
  
Jim called to him again, Spock shutting his eyes this time.   
  
He could not avoid this any longer.   
  
Jim would most certainly inquire as to why Spock hid this the first place. Spock acknowledged that this was what he was truly dreading, not merely the task of explaining biology.   
  
Biology, Spock blurted out - sparking Jim’s attention by dropping his hand and shutting his lips. A time of mating, he added - A time in which he could not properly hypothesis if it would occur for him. Vulcan Biology, a confusing set of elements that forged together to create something that changed too many times to make sense of.   
  
Jim leaned back into his seat, his back resting on the passenger door, blinking excessively in a manner that seemed identical to Spock’s own reactions in the face of something otherwordly, abnormal to his psyche.   
  
Biology, the only reason of why he could possibly be forced to act in such an irrational manner, desperate and ill for a connection that could possible injure his telsu, his human telsu, whom would be too tired and too weak to stop.   
  
“I’m not following.”   
  
“I am explaining.” Spock said, urging Jim to just listen.   
  
“Why? So I can have a choice? ”Jim grimaced with wide eyes, “Now? Like it somehow matters?”  
  
“Yes - “  
  
“No.” Jim interrupted him, shaking his head and waving his index finger.   
  
Something evil cackled at Spock, enjoying his troubling moment and claiming that the ‘No’ Jim uttered was a ’No’ to everything.  
  
No, Jim would not agree to this.   
  
No, Jim would erase all their memories, sure that such a thing could never occur between them.   
  
Except, Spock knew that the ‘No’ was the total dissatisfaction from Spock’s current reasoning. Jim needed more answers to the inquiries restlessly brewing.   
  
He could not escape this.   
  
“My decision isn’t what I’m questioning.” Jim huffed out, wiping his cheeks. “I’m questioning as to why now? I know you. You’re always careful, so forgive me if this doesn’t make fucking sense.”  
  
“I am responsible for informing you of all you will and can be subjected to.” Spock pathetically justified himself, and it was worthy of a cringe to his own ears.  
  
“Exactly. Which is why you warned me of everything a bond could entail. You talked about it like it was this thing that could swallow me, and you know what, you almost succeeded. But you still knew that I hated how you could easily get everything out of me, and I wasn’t allowed the same.” Jim did this thing in which he sucked in his lips, breathing deep with nostrils flaring, “I begged you. I asked you again and again, and you denied me every time.”  
  
Spock wished he opened a window, suddenly feeling trapped in the space. He detested the idea of sitting here for longer than necessary. The added heightened anxiety of this moment caused him to think that if he turned to the corners of his window, there would be tape.   
  
Spock never had a closet like Jim.   
  
He had hovercraft, over hovercraft, over hovercraft - counting every inch his hair grew to increase his chances of survival.   
  
“Do you see my dilemma, Spock?” Jim asked him with a pinched voice, “So as your responsibility, you would have told me about this, because from what you’ve said, it sounds like I would be stripped of a choice later on.”  
  
Jim was putting the pieces together and Spock would have no choice but to answer. He would have to admit to the disconcerting beliefs he carried in their apartment, to the growing separation of their link, to the attention grasping paranoia that engulfed each minute of his days.   
  
“I opened my mind to you, and we locked ourselves together.” Jim said, looking down at his enclosing hands, “We did that after … when it was just us. My God, you said ‘yes’.”   
  
Spock gulped, looking at every crevice of his steering wheel.  
  
“Spock, you better explain because what I’m thinking right now isn’t so pretty.” Jim’s patience would not last for much longer, “How could you have indulged me without mentioning this?”  
  
“Your presence was waning from the moment we arrived to the apartment.”   
  
Jim’s brows furrowed together, hearing this for the first time.   
  
Spock continued, “And when we resumed contact, there were certain tendencies that I discovered within your mind. I speculated that - “ He paused, not sure if he could say it anymore.  
  
“That I would what?” Jim coaxed him with the scrutiny he used to bend and break the one before him. “Off myself? That I would just walk out into the night and scream at the weapons to come down and burn me? Is that it, Spock?” 

Jim asked, making each word sound like some absurd conspiracy theory.   
  
Except this was not a belief that was without warrant. This was as real as the world they were returned to.   
  
“Yes.” Spock truthfully answered.   
  
A curse left Jim’s lips, shutting his eyes as he let his head weightlessly fall on the window. “I tried so hard, and in the end you still thought - “  
  
“I did not think, theorize or hypothesize. I heard it. I saw it. Therefore, I knew it.”  
  
 _They_ committed it.   
  
“You should have told me.”  
  
“So that you could speak around it?” Spock responded too harshly, his teeth clenched together. “Or so you could isolate yourself again?”  
  
He would not have been able to bear that a second time.   
  
“So I could tell you that no matter what I was thinking, I wouldn’t leave you.” Jim firmly answered, dropping his hands into his fists. “I was grieving, Spock. Half the shit I thought didn’t make sense to even myself. I’m not Vulcan, so you shouldn’t have expected peak organization in this brain of mine. Despite my thoughts, I knew that I would never leave you alone out there, not after everything. Not like that. It would kill you too.”   
  
Spock grabbed onto his steering wheel too hard, feeling the blood leave his knuckles, “And then you offered me the world. How could I further deny something we both desired?”  
  
“But how did you expect us to deal with this in the SIM, knowing that you’ve denied me the opportunity of consent?” Jim questioned, saddened. “Back to my original point – that isn’t you.”  
  
Spock knew the answer, and the truth was that he carelessly grabbed onto anything that could anchor him to that world.   
  
Jim gave him that.  
  
Jim was that.   
  
“Tell me – “ Jim began. “Because the Spock I know in both worlds would rather _die_.”  
  
No amount of preparation was sufficient enough to make Spock comfortable with the fact that he was about to disassemble any kind of hope their SIM selves thrived on.   
  
“This predicament, this ‘pon farr’, it should arise during Vulcan puberty, so a few years, and considering the gathered statistics you’ve told me, maybe a decade at most, if it does at all – right?”  
  
Spock shamefully wished that Jim could feign ignorance, “…Affirmative.”   
  
“So this is a dilemma that didn’t grant any thought because by your logic, it wouldn’t occur.” Jim said with a tone of question, both of them not saying anything after because it was a question that answered itself.   
  
Spock hoped to everything that Jim would blame this on biology … except with one look, Spock noticed the color disappear from Jim’s face.   
  
He was caught.   
  
As a man who endeavored to give Jim hope for each day, the complete despondence Spock carried in secret was yanked out of hiding.   
  
“Jim - “ Spock found himself whispering.  
  
Jim flinched at it, “This dilemma wouldn’t occur because you didn’t think we’d make it that long, did you?”   
  
It was a question in the form of assertion that came from a man that knew how Spock thought and how that lifeless space in his mind used to be filled with something remarkable.   
  
Jim already knew the answer.  
  
SIM Spock’s impulse to agree, to say ‘yes’, to allow himself this like a man that was void of sense was because of that answer.   
  
Spock concluded that if he did indeed lose his mind in the SIM, it was then and it was in the most mystical way possible - washing the dishes, with Jim holding him.

  
  
_Marry me._

  
  
“I did not predict our premature end.” Spock admitted, never having theorized that their final moments could arrive so violently, so soon.   
  
Jim’s stiff resolve was breaking, nodding as if accepting that this situation would not improve. “But in that head of yours, it would have happened sooner or later, right? That’s what you thought, at least.”  
  
Spock knew that he was not alone in this. He would not give Jim the opportunity to deny or forget that. “You have contemplated similar thoughts.”  
  
“Sometimes, sure." Jim shrugged at the fact. "But call me naïve, Spock. I mostly thought we would make it. With our skills, and the fact that it was just you and I, having less of an obligation to obtain resources, to protect others, yeah – I thought we would make it – dying of old age or something.”  
  
In a world that was dismal in every corner, Jim dreamed. They would not own a home, but an entire section of homes, switching whenever they felt bored. They had a market of material that Jim jested to be magically filled with items he had not seen the day prior. One small apartment one evening, the next being a mansion - all of them secured because it belonged to them.    
  
With the nights in their domain, the possibilities were endless.   
  
Memory foam, fur and chocolate.   
  
Spock always pushed those images aside, having concluded that the practical thoughts were what Jim ultimately rested on - a man that had a caliber of reason. No one survived that long if they believed such extravagant wishful thinking.  
  
Or even worse … the swimming ashes were another dream Jim rested on.   
  
And yet, Spock was incorrect again. Jim favored those extravagant dreams, and saw the future in them.   
  
Spock noticed Jim staring at him in distraught, feeling the disappointment on the right side of his body. His skin was marred by it.   
  
“Even now, I still think we could be invincible, but I’m probably wrong. Maybe I’m working my ass off for nothing.” Jim sighed out with a small sniffle afterwards - appearing depleted of any jubilation he exhibited from when he entered the craft. “Maybe I’m getting tired of fighting everyone, all to fight you too.”  
  
Please, no.  
  
“Maybe we won’t make it here either.”  
  
Spock breathed, feeling pinned to his craft. He breathed, and there were no breaths to accompany his this time, the space on his right empty of the one person that followed those breaths so smoothly.   
  
One thing came to his knowledge throughout this anguishing moment, and it was that despite Jim’s dismaying thoughts in the SIM – Spock was the only one who truly acted as if they did not have all the time in the world.   
  
In this world, he wished to believe that they did, hence taking to those responsibilities now, … except Jim rejected that notion.   
  
Rejected the idea that they could be happy again.   
  
The burning behind his eyes ignored, Spock remained in his stupor, the pain on his hands around the wheel of little bother. He blinked and watched the distant forms of people walk in their various directions.   
  
He had a need to open a window for air, but his hands stayed in their spots, paralyzed, because in his mind, there was tape.   
  
The tape would rip and it would allow access to danger. In light of that, he could not simply open it for air - not until the sun made his return, clearing him for another day.  
  
He was safety and warmth, always assuring a limited set of hours that were free of constraint if Spock planned efficiently. In his rays, Spock could breathe properly.  
  
But with him nowhere in sight, Spock’s breathing quickened, his chest rising up and down as he bit his tongue. He was no different than a compromised add-on.   
  
He filled in his lungs again, this time the inhale accompanied by another. It was out of sync and too fast to match, but it was there.   
  
Alarmed, thinking that the danger entered from a possible breach, Spock quickly turned his body as much as he could in the limited space. He wished to face the floating weapon.  
  
Except, there was no weapon, trembling hands suddenly placed on his chest, wrinkling his scarf and shirt, and pulling him closer.   
  
One hand cupped the side of his face, the touch filled with disconsolate urgency and more longing than he could bear. Heat ignited from the pits of his abdomen at the realization of Jim’s spontaneous return.   
  
How could Jim be here when he did not deserve the man’s return? How far in his mind did he drown to have not noticed?  
  
Spock had not been given the chance to properly think, stuck in those rays and that same position of impulse. He did not prevent Jim’s movements, instead following him until their lips pressed together.   
  
With Jim’s fingers over his minimally exposed skin, Spock felt the rays securing him. Spock cradled the sides of Jim’s face by instinct and felt every inch of Jim’s hope rekindling his. It was erasing the unwanted rejection from laying foundation and creating a permanent home that no amount of meditation could remove.  
  
“I’m sorry,” Jim whispered underneath his breath as they slightly separated. Jim transferred unending apologies as he pressed his forehead on Spock’s bangs.  
  
Jim’s guilt of leaving this morning, and leaving just now, pervaded Spock’s senses. By Jim’s logic, he promised to not leave, and he did so twice in one day.  
  
“I keep disappointing you.” Therefore, Jim had every right to leave.   
  
“You confided in me about something I’m sure a handful of humans know of.” Jim answered, brushing the tip of his nose with Spock’s. “Forget my disappointment. I’ll get over it. We’ll get over it.” He added for emphasis, “From now on, if you see or hear anything alarming in this cranium, speak to me. Please.”   
  
“As you wish,” he complied, already feeling the heat cool off from inside him. However, to say that it was a dissipating one would be an inaccurate description, because this heat was replaced by another kind … and he knew this one in detail.  
  
“You promised me dinner.” Jim reminded him, fully pulling away to sit properly in his seat, clicking on the seatbelt to slide across his body as he stared ahead.  
  
Spock followed suit, holding his keys.   
  
He held his hand up, taking too long to near the metal to the ignition. He could still feel the pressure on his mouth, seeing Jim touch his own lips with his thumb. They were frozen, basking in the fresh sensation. Another set of breaths, just as fast paced and unsteady, accompanied his breathing.   
  
There was a beat over the barren place, and he was addicted to it, the pounding rejuvenating him already. And like any addict, he wanted to abandoned logic to seek the source, craving for more doses.  
  
Jim dropped his head, a low and dry chuckle coming from him as he pinched the bridge of his nose.   
  
“Fuck.”   
  
Spock heard the keys clatter as it fell on his thighs, both of them already gravitating towards the other. A hand on his neck and firm fingers grabbing fistfuls of his hair. His hands grabbing onto Jim’s shirt and jaw in return – they kissed, opened mouthed and wanting to be rid of this destitute that crawled over them since they awoke.    
  
Fuck, Jim declared – as in they were ‘fucked’ – sentenced to toss away their problems. They instead took the time to remind themselves of one of things they were fighting for in exact detail, the bridge weeping from the trickles of raining familiarity.   
  
Jim pressed his weight on one knee, effectively leaning down from his seat and laughed against Spock’s lips. The vibration teased at that growing heat from inside Spock. If the wheel was not in the way, Spock would have led Jim on his lap with quickness.   
  
It was no longer a wish or some memory. This was Jim, his Captain, his comrade, his telsu - openly loving him.  
  
They no longer felt to be in a hovercraft, nor did they feel this to be a sealed closet. To both of them, this was a functioning laundry room in the middle of a vacant neighborhood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you have read my story MERAKI, then you'd know that I don't laugh off the concept of Pon Farr. It brings out and represents a lot.   
> No surprise here.
> 
> ~X


	86. Sorry.

**.**

**.**

**.**

 

 

**My name is Xiiva.**

**I am 23.**

**& I am signing off.**

 

**LLAP.**

 

**.**

**.**

**.**


	87. POST SIM - THIRTY THREE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I debated if I should delete my last post, but I decided against it.  
> I wish to keep it to look back on this story and see my personal journey in comparison to where I will be. 
> 
> I have taken drastic steps in my life - ones I were too scared to take, however I'm learning to make my happiness a priority. 
> 
> I've picked myself from the bottom, and I can say for the first time in years 'I'm excited'
> 
> I apologize at the fear I've placed in you all. Know that when someone is so low, it's impossible to understand that people care. The love I have received has taken part in re-realizing my worth, even if it is only in my work. 
> 
> \- I'm in the process of changing my living situation - my personal relationships & have started to eat multiple times in a day again. I've started to take multivitamins - incorporated proper exercise - increased my income. 
> 
> Yes, I am excited. 
> 
> You might notice in this chapter. Spock's growth is somewhat reflective of my own. 
> 
> I love you. 
> 
> ~X
> 
> Warning: N/A  
> Song: Let Me Live by Kehlani
> 
> If anyone wishes to contact me - my email is 'xeroxiiva@gmail.com'

**POST SIM - THIRTY THREE**

**.**

**.**

**.**

 

Progress reports.  
  
Some included reports regarding the ship, regarding the SIMs, and regarding the cadets. Jim could not assess them all. Spock was drowning in progress reports at the moment and when more notifications of his father came through, accompanied by V’ek’s messages - Spock knew that he would not sleep unless he overlooked another pending progress report. His work ethic was slumping.  
  
Instead of contemplating the how’s and why’s, he accepted that this was just a Terra year of firsts. Many firsts.  
  
Deciding to take a break, he opened his recently modified blueprints, along with the updated additions to his older project. He should have accepted them already.  
  
Instead of the feelings of resignation and lassitude at viewing the surrounding eight diagrams, he viewed it with a sense of not only ease … but an unreasonable amount of excitement.  
  
He played with his bottom lip with his thumb, remembering the very reason for that excitement. Luckily, he moved his finger in time. He could ponder on it later, digging his adrenaline rush to the depths of his mind and burying it with impenetrable crystals.  
  
_“Were you not satisfied with the developments?”_ Sarek asked over the video comm from his Terran estate, ignoring his usual greeting. He was markedly concerned by the nature of this call when Spock normally did not take to speaking to him about these developments.  
  
His father’s curiosity was unskillfully hidden.  
  
Spock needed more. Much more, and so Spock spoke of this, interrupting a process that he had not done so in the last nine months and two weeks. He would not be satisfied until he could see Jim’s smile at the display.  
  
Spock already took to stretching two of the six-room estate on New Vulcan, grateful that he chose a place on the outskirts of the colony to begin with, guaranteeing more land for his modifications.  
  
No matter how comfortable he became around the cities, an escape of sorts was necessary.  
  
Looking at the prints, Spock’s original vision had altered drastically. He quickly took to modifying one of the two restrooms, adding a second sink, a walk-in closet, and approved of the plumbing adjustments he added in the rough floor plan - not having to explain it if he had done so now.  
  
“The foundation has been set, correct?”  
  
Sarek had his eyes concentrated to his left, looking at Spock’s live changes from his own room. _“You expressively informed me to keep it simple. Everything I have presented to you is what you have previously approved of. And yet ...”_  
  
“I did.”  
  
_“These are no longer **simple**.”_  
  
“There are available funds.” Spock pointed out. “Or has that changed?” He added after a pause. He would not be surprised if things changed whilst this debacle was taking place around him.  
  
Yes, all the remaining high families have donated over seventy percent of their finances to ensuring the quick building of many other structures and homes. Of course this was with unified Federation efforts and investments.  
  
Family funds mostly passed off and locked away, Spock was more than comfortable with his own gathered funds from his years on Terra.  
  
He could live off it, however, he could never entirely dedicate them into this Terran home - therefore he intended to utilize the remaining parts of his saved funds on his New Vulcan residence.  
  
He could see his father’s hesitation at the live intricate adjustments.  
  
_“You sincerely believe that the vote will not be in your favor.”_ Sarek deduced, _“That you will be here, and prepare for a life outside of Starfleet.”_  
  
Sarek always wanted this ... but not in this manner and Spock knew it. He could return there now, or five years down the line - regardless, he wished to have a place waiting for him.  
  
“Father, I ask that you send these to the sector delegate for approval.”

Spock knew what 'want' felt like to say that he wanted this.

 _“Let us discuss that I see a garden.”_ Sarek added quizzically, turning back to his left seven times, and not paying attention to Spock’s request.  
  
“Affirmative.”  
  
_“You wish to replace the drywall and vinyl with walnut and African padauk wood. All imported goods.”_ An expensive resource on this colony, which Sarek was making very well known of with his eyebrow. _“You have increased the cost by forty three percent for mere aesthetic. Explain.”_  
  
Sarek’s stare was determined with a hint of amusement.  
  
Then again, Spock was most likely imagining the amusement.  
  
“It would significantly improve the atmosphere.” The original internal designs were too simple, nothing like the kinds of his old family home nor like the one he currently resided in.  
  
Looking at what he originally agreed to, he clearly was in a different state of mind, before being too occupied with handling Starfleet affairs from the drastic loss and also immersed in his own loss.  
  
With the decision that he would debark on the Enterprise again, and with the knowledge that they would receive the five-year mission, Spock thought of New Vulcan as something to oversee and to assist in whichever way he could. His own home was honestly the least of his concerns, never truly envisioning himself outside of the ship.  
  
_“Atmosphere …”_ Sarek said as if testing out the word. _“Atmosphere for you, or for someone else?”_  
  
_…_  
  
“I merely wish to make this new place of residence something more. Possibly a home.” Spock evaded the query by closing off the designs around him.

Knowing very well that New Vulcan could never be Jim’s permanent’s place of residence, he wished to ensure that Jim had a home there - a place for them, specifically designed for them.  
  
Instead of pushing away those dreams he experienced through Jim, perhaps he could indulge in them. He could assist in manifesting them into their reality.  
  
_“Your vagueness is something I can only tolerate for so long.”_ Sarek heavily sighed, exhaustion evident in his appearance, _“We will resume this conversation at a more preferable time, Spock. I look forward to your 'garden'."_  
  
Spock heard the click and saw his father’s face disappear from the corner of his eye. On a whim, he took to overlooking the possibilities of what _their_ garden could include.  
  
With each minute, it seemed that Jim’s tendency to dream was being transferred to Spock - and apparently Spock did not mind.  
  
Swipe after swipe, he looked at a few plants that were native to nearby planets and listed in the non-harmful directory for New Vulcan. He approved of over six kinds, ranging from shades between Jasmine and Citrine - all possible to thrive together in the dry environment.  
  
No matter how much research he could do, he needed another’s opinion and that person could be no other than Sulu. It could prove to be a decent distraction for Sulu, thus deciding to finalize his last options after giving Sulu the freedom to modify it in ways to ensure practicality and a lively environment.  
  
He scoured through a plethora of colors, and through it all, he ultimately decided that he should see a few that Terra had to offer.  
  
It took five minutes to land on the purple family, classified by extravagant names suck as Boysenberry and Tryian Purple. If Spock were to label them, he would organize it numerically - a universal name.  
  
There have been many articles on the _Eustoma russellianum_ , an extinct plant returned with much scientific intervention and as of a year ago, it had been considered a success. The reason on why Eustoma caught Spock’s attention was because it had a bright hue that seemed almost luminescent. The rose like shapes were dipped in a shade called 'Byzantium'.  
  
Spock shut his eyes and envisioned little Jim playing around the field of the flowers that others deemed aesthetically displeasing. Spock did not know if he simply grown used to them or if everyone’s views were ill-placed.  
  
He first hand experienced little Jim’s admiration - therefore it became his admiration as well. Meditation after Meditation. There were an endless list of stuff Spock found himself to be missing, however he did not consider it to include these flowers.  
  
Once he added it to the list for later keeping, Spock had to acknowledge that he was not satisfied with that alone. After sitting on one of his couches, he instinctively placed an order for two premium bouquets from the lab.  
  
Settled with his decision, he swiped all the screens away and crossed his legs on the cushions, immersing himself in the darkness of his home. In the future, he could place an order for a premium memory foam mattress when it was time to add the accents and other minor details.  
  
The switch of considering logic and a possible dreary future without Jim, to somehow taking to designing a home with Jim in mind, without those needed assurances - Spock knew that he was not caring much for his boundaries, despite them coming to existence solely to keep his sanity.  
  
Not only did he give himself to Jim, he sunk into the mesmeric beat. He thirsted for it in ways that the idea of having to eventually pull away was synonymous to an inimical withdrawal.  
  
It would hurt him irreparably, and he knew it.  
  
He would do whatever to stay in this state of transfixion, reintroducing his mind to his telsu, inhaling his scent and recording the exact degree of curvature of that smile against his own.  
  
Spock bent forward on the cushion, his elbows on his knees and took a moment to breathe in to reconsider his options.  
  
And Spock’s options were that he had the desire to just hide Jim away from the world and go ahead on their own. It would be a misleading belief to say that Jim would not run away with him if forced to debark on the Enterprise alone.  
  
It was to the point that a vote was nothing but a simple detail in regards to their life together. Which was exactly what Spock did not - could not, allow Jim to do.  
  
His objective in this was just as concrete as it was in the beginning.  
  
Spock kept his head low and felt the urge to cackle at himself, because there it was … another lie.  
  
His _objective_.  
  
He had been officially driven to lie to himself. The prospect of where he was diving, was one that should have terrified him, knowing that he could so effortlessly alter the direction of Jim’s life - a man sentenced for greatness. A man whom obtained it in another Universe. Perhaps plenty of them, if not all.  
  
It may be that this one had different paths for them.

There was no fate, no destiny.

Only decisions.  
  
And so alone in his home - that brewing chuckle escaped his lips. A low chuckle that leaped far into the air, noticing that it was born from misplaced lips.

Spock was breaking in the most majestic way.  
  
A laugh ... then another.  
  
To own such power was dangerous, except his body hummed at the alien prospect, having felt powerless his entire life. The walls replayed his sounds on a loop, instructing him to offer more.  
  
And so he did. **  
**

The song percolated into his heart and its title was **'Love'**.

 

**.**

**.**

**.**

 

 

> _**Starfleet and State have been separate entities since the beginning and will remain so. With that said, as a conscious being, I cannot sit by and watch the very beings that volunteer for such an honorable duty be abused without reason, especially on our soil.** _  
>    
>  _**As the home of Earth Starfleet HQ, this country speaks its displeasure of this practice. Without due, do know that I have made it my personal endeavor to work with the Federation President to resolve this issue and mend the outcry of our civilians.** _  
>    
>  _**As holders of positions in leadership, our sentiment is identical and that is to protect our own. Obviously our methods differ, therefore the objective is to reach a reasonable consensus.** _  
>    
>  _**I commend those that have taken the brave steps to speak of this and unapologetically express their experiences. It is your stories that have inspired us in the White House.** _  
>    
>  _**With this said, I have no doubt that my position in this will fuel the decade long rumors of my involvement in the Miracle Nine. Know that such a connection is not needed to see the wrong. ** _  
>    
>  _**That girl is dead.** _  
>    
>  _**It is ‘I’ that sees you.** _  
>    
>  _**The United States will help you.** _  
>    
>  _**\- VPOTUS, Aretha Jin** _
> 
>  

**Author's Note:**

> Reviews feed my crazy!


End file.
